The Whipping Boy
by roseeyes
Summary: One winter day in the kingdom of Gandara, a boy is brought to King Yomi's castle for the crown prince. The young heir is desperate for a friend - the strange boy needs a place to belong. They call him the whipping boy, a title neither understand but both come to loathe. Can true friendship form when one is punished for the wrongs of another? Kurama/Hiei's 1st person POV; AU.
1. Prologue:The Whipping Boy My Friend

_Friends are the siblings_

 _God never gave us._

– _Mencius_

Prologue: The Whipping Boy, My Friend

They called him the whipping boy.

I remember the day we met very well, for snow marked the occasion – a rarity in father's kingdom. Unrelenting white piled high atop the town's thatched roofs and bare tree branches, blanketing the empty courtyards and frozen pools of Gandara, glistening against the windowpanes lining the great hall. To my five-year-old mind this miracle of nature was cause enough to celebrate, yet when I answered father's summons and took my place next to his throne, an entirely unexpected marvel awaited there.

"Son, we have guests."

My ears barely caught father's proclamation, so engrossed was I in the sight before me. A boy about my age knelt beside a burly man, the knee of his black breeches lost in the folds of the fern runner. Puffed white sleeves spewed from a violet waistcoat, tucked into the breeches and fastened at the wrist with silver buttons. Pale hose clung to his calves, bleeding seamlessly into equally close-fitting leather boots. He kept his eyes fixed on the floor, yet I could see the feathers of his tricorn hat trembling where he held it aloft across bended knee.

"–of the finest stock." The man continued on, speaking solely to father. I noted the straining clasps of his fine jerkin briefly, wondering if they would hold should he decide to laugh. He appeared to be of noble rank, the bright pearls of his satin roundlet shimmering as he waved an enthusiastic hand. "Sire, he would be perfect for the young lord!"

Over time, I would learn the meaning behind those words:

 _Were he born to anyone else, he would have been a prince._

"Kurama." Father's smooth baritone drew my attention away from the kneeling figure. Tipping my head back, I took in the familiar sight of Gandara's gold encrusted throne bordered with countless jewels, gaze rising until I beheld father. Rich dark hair framed his angular face before spilling down his back, braided after the custom of our people. Gold adorned father's long pointed ears, danced across his neck and fingers in various styles of rings and necklaces, crowned his head in the glory of our kingdom. The royal robes encased his body in various shades of red and green – the colors of our house – shaped perfectly around his strong build; a mantle made of snow leopard fur hung about his shoulders. A single creamy hand peeked from beneath the gray and black garment, lowering until long, elegant fingers brushed my hair. "Would it please you if he stayed here?"

My eyes widened as I glanced back at the boy, who had yet to raise his head. Wild hair adorned that head much like the crown on father's, yet nothing in the boy's bearing insinuated nobility: tanned skin, scarred knuckles, a resolute submissiveness which did not fit with any royalty I'd ever seen. He was unique; an anomaly.

They called him the whipping boy but I did not know what that meant.

"Is he a slave?"

Father smiled at the innocent question, eyes forever closed by the scar spanning his temples – the wound of a battle before my time. "No; he hails from a house of the north."

My brows rose, breath catching in silent awe. For as long as I could remember, my nurse had entertained me with tales of the ice-capped north, a mystical place where snow fell every day and the people bent the elements to their will. I'd never met someone from beyond Tourrin's borders, our northernmost neighbor, and honestly, I was enchanted by the boy. "Can he be my friend?"

Father's brow furrowed, though his lips never faltered. Despite being in the constant company of my nurse and countless servants, I longed for a companion my own age. Mother died shortly after my birth – I'd come too soon, the doctor said – and father refused to marry after her passing; I had no brothers or sisters. "If you wish for him to be, then yes."

I bit my cheek to keep the rising excitement in check, donning as regal a mask as I could, given the circumstances. With a barely perceptible nod, I refocused on the boy at my feet, ignoring the plump man entirely. "What is your name?"

The man nudged him with a square-toed shoe and the boy started, white-knuckled grip on his hat tightening further as he bit his lip. "Whatever it pleases your majesty to call me."

My mask cracked enough to allow my lips to part in wonder. His tiny voice somehow managed to fill the mammoth hall, soft as downy feathers; my own treble felt reedy in comparison. "Do you not have a name?"

Mouth set in a grimace, he shook his head. "No, your majesty." The words bore carefully disguised shame, an emotion betrayed only by the sudden brilliant coloring of his ears. Though he kept his gaze fixed on the floor, I watched the change with heart-felt sympathy, noting how the white handkerchief wrapped around his forehead complimented his flushed face.

Even recognizing his embarrassment, a nameless boy was too much for my young mind to process. "But everyone has a name–"

"Why don't you give him a name, son?" Father suggested, lofty tone garnering my attention once more. "Surely you think of a name for your new friend?"

That term on father's lips blossomed in my chest and I nodded vigorously, bowing my head in thought. His name had to be perfect; as a child who'd never experienced friendship before, I determined this boy deserved the best name in all of Gandara.

Soon, I would learn the many names which clung to him like a second skin:

 _Whoreson_.

 _The Ice Queen's bastard._

 _The forbidden child_.

They called him the whipping boy –

I called him my friend.

After a moment's consideration, I lifted my chin, spouting the appropriate command with much more confidence than I felt. "Raise your head."

He obeyed immediately yet refused to meet my gaze – a reflection of good breeding. A handful of paper-thin scars lined his chin and what I could see of his throat above the stiff collar, though the rest of his face remained unmarred. Sun-kissed cheeks round with youth, high cheekbones and a fine nose, thin lips which even now fought not to tremble. What stood out most prominently, however, were his eyes: liquid fire rested within those wide sockets, daunting rubies burning with an intensity his posture did not possess. Nameless emotions danced in their depths; so many, in fact, it was impossible to tell what he was eyes appeared ready to fly from his face – they had a life all their own.

Only after seeing his eyes did a name come to me. "Hiei."

The man at his side coughed, and though I could not see his face, I could tell from father's tone that his brow had risen. "Interesting choice. Are you sure, son?"

Shock briefly parted the boy's lips before hiding within his eyes, tucked amongst swirling crimson. His dark hair, the way he knelt before us without an air of expectancy, and his wild, wild eyes–

I set my lips in a firm line, gaze never leaving his."Yes."

A soft hum from father's throat, the phantom rustling of his hair through the mantle's fur, and I knew it was done. "Hiei it is, then."

I refused to look away from him as a page not much older than myself trotted to the burly man, placing a bag heavy with gold in his hand. He grinned openly before regaining control of himself, bowing profusely to father and sputtering his thanks to both of us, though I ignored his praises. The boy – no, Hiei – continued to stare somewhere in the vicinity of my cheekbones as his keeper and father exchanged pleasantries, yet even as I saw his nose wrinkle in discomfort, I could not bring myself to allow him to lower his head. Never before had I been given a friend all my own, a boy with whom I could share anything and everything with, so I focused on committing this moment to memory, engraining his face in my mind's eye.

Only after the man left and father rose did I tear my eyes from Hiei, concentrating on not tripping over my own robes as I hurried out of the cushioned seat. Hiei stood at father's command, smoothing a single wrinkle from his breeches before returning his gaze resolutely to the plush runner. Less than two feet seperated us now and as I observed him, I noted with secret glee that he was shorter than I. "Father?" I asked as we turned towards the doors leading to our private chambers, both of us fully expecting Hiei to follow.

"Yes?"

A thick creaking as two servants opened the wooden doors; I'm embarrassed to say it took a few moments for my inexperienced mind to find the necessary vocabulary for my question. "You gave that man money for Hiei."

"Yes." Father's broad back stretched endlessly above my head, shoulders perfectly straight as we traversed down the warm stone halls. Unlike our sure steps, Hiei's feet made no sound and I glanced back more than once to ensure he truly was following us. Each time, his eyes remained fixed on my slippered soles; he never once met my gaze.

A perturbed frown marred my mouth. "But he isn't a slave?"

"No, son. Hiei hails from a royal house, just as you do."

The contradiction was too much. "Then what is his station? Why is he here?" Though I knew the question to be inappropriate, my curiousity refused to rest without knowing. Hiei's clothing befitted the rank of a noble, yet if that were true, why did he not abide in his own house? Why did father pay money to the noble as if he were a slaver rather than Hiei's escort?

Father slowed his pace to allow me by his side, bowing his head so I could see his face clearly. "He is your whipping boy, Kurama." He replied, as if it were the most obvious position in the world.

Whipping boy? The words felt foreign on my tongue as I repeated them, yet I did not dare question him again. Soon it would be time for my daily riding lesson – already two of father's most trusted manservants waited in front of my door to help me change.

Whipping boy – I resolved to know the secret behind those words.

Long before I was ready, I would discover the cold truth for myself.

A/N: Hello all, roseeyes here with another story! I rarely work on two fics at one time but for those also reading Black Angel, rest assured, I am not putting it on hold – this story just demanded to be told.

First off, The Whipping Boy is an AU, set during the latter Middle Ages; while the world portrayed in this story is modeled after medieval Britain, it is Yu Yu Hakusho all the way. Imagine England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales replaced by Gandara, Tourin, Alaric, and the Spirit World, respectfully, and you have this AU in a nutshell. Though some liberties will be taken because it's YYH and a fanfiction, I will do my best to remain true to the above-mentioned time period.

For those unfamiliar with the concept of a whipping boy, the role is an early-modern convention in which a boy of nobility was raised alongside a prince: the two received the same education and were generally always together throughout their boyhood years. However, the whipping boy received any and all punishment intended for the prince because only the King could punish his son (note: reference the Divine Rights of Kings), and what could be done if the King was too busy ruling the land to properly discipline the future leader of his country? Que the whipping boy.

This fic will NOT contain a HieixKurama pairing! Many familiar characters will appear here but overall, this is a story of friendship developing through diversity, not one focusing on romantic relationships. However, expect romantic relationships to develop between certain characters later on.

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a review with any questions/comments or send me a PM. Until next time!


	2. The Boy With the Dragon Tattoo

A/N: Content warning – child abuse in this chapter.

 _A friend is someone who_

 _gives you total freedom to be_

 _yourself._

– _Jim Morrison_

Chapter 1: The Knight and the Boy With the Dragon Tattoo

 _"Hurry up, Hiei!"_

 _The words fled my mouth in a frosted stream as we ran through the royal orchards, dead grass cracking with each step. The sleeping apple trees did not stir when we passed, neither did the peach; the orange trees shuffled bare branches groggily above our heads, though otherwise remained silent._

 _Three days had come and gone since Hiei's arrival: three days filled with frigid weather, Latin lessons, and instruction on proper court etiquette. In all of these my friend remained a neutral participant, speaking only when addressed directly by our tutor in his seat next to mine. Hiei never complained of the hard-backed chairs nor the hours spent tirelessly copying various texts; his script was flawless, yet Kaito never praised him._

 _So, when our tutor fell ill, I decided we needed some fun._

 _"Your Highness–"_

 _"Kurama." I corrected for the fifth time, tightening my grip on his wrist._

 _I felt more than saw him grimace, tension humming through his body even as he attempted to dig his heels into the hard earth. Traces of snow remained in random patches of grass, though the winter miracle had fled almost as soon as it arrived – father saw to that. "Kurama, we shouldn't be here. We're supposed to be–"_

 _"We are studying." The nut trees now: pecan, almond, hazelnut . . . Almost there. "I'm going to show you something only father and I know about." I grinned over my shoulder, noting his wide, wide eyes. "It's a secret, but I'll share it with you."_

 _As we neared the garden wall, his eyes widened further and his face blanched; all at once, he began struggling against my hold in earnest. "N-no! Kurama, we_ _ **can't**_ _. Kaito said–"_

 _"This is mine and father's secret." I was well aware that traversing father's private garden without permission was punishable by death, but surely that applied only to commoners. Father had taken me here many times, shared the hidden treasure of our kingdom . . . Surely I could show it to Hiei._

 _"But what if we're caught?"_

 _The terror in his voice gave me pause. Hiei's hand trembled in mine even as he fought to still it, gnawing his lower lip with abandon. Pink scars on his bare throat and chin glared in the dim noon-light, remnants of a past I hoped one day to know._

 _More than anything, I wanted to banish his fear._

 _Donning a smile which never failed to please, I squeezed his hand as I led him to the rough stone wall. "It'll be okay. Don't worry, Hiei – I never get in trouble."_

All at once, dappled sunlight assaulted my closed lids and the air warmed at an astonishing rate. Full leaves whispered overhead and the scent of freshly turned soil flooded my senses, chasing the icy illusion away. Honeysuckle, lilies and ivy came next: each stalk caressing my arms, my legs; bowed heads kissing the bare flesh of my hands and face; tender leaves weaving through stray strands of hair. The petals sang softly in my ears, sweet voices drawing me back to that day so long ago–

Too soon, my newfound serenity was shattered by a masculine screech. "What'd you say?!"

I sighed, begrudgingly allowing my eyes to open. The midday sun reigned high above any stray clouds straddling the sky, breaching through my resting place to paint speckled patterns of pecan leaves across my body. Three menservants waited several feet away, each holding a different cloak, though their attention remained focused elsewhere as I rose from the flower bed.

Once again, a familiar braying reached my ears. "Say that again, I dare you!"

Another voice sounded, as customary to this garden as my own. "Are you deaf as well as incompetent?"

Two men stood in the clearing normally reserved for parties and summer dances, glaring at one another across a space of nearly ten feet. Kazuma Kuwabara, lord of the Kuwabara house, shook with barely bridled anger, each tremor rattling the links of his chain-mail shirt. At fifteen summers, Kuwabara was considered a man by human standards whereas my people viewed him as nothing more than a child. When the former lord and lady Kuwabara passed seven years ago, a nameless uncle maintained the estate until Kuwabara came 'of age' at thirteen. Father then recognized him as the rightful heir to what remained of his father's wealth – the Kuwabaras never possessed much – and now he frequently dwelt in court at my request. Many disapproved of my choice, urging instead for companions from more noble houses – usually their own – but I remained steadfast: regardless of his estate's income, Kuwabara carried out his duties as a knight just as his father and grandfather before him, and that was good enough for me.

Hiei's annoyance permeated the clearing, though his ire remained minuscule next to Kuwabara's. Thus far, time remained kind to my childhood companion – what Hiei's body lacked in height was sufficiently atoned for by muscle mass. Though I rose a full head and a half higher than he, Hiei's profile boasted girth which his tanned skin seemed scarcely able to contain, a rarity in a society which prided itself in slim bodies and pale flesh among both men and women. A leather cuirass adorned his torso, accentuating bare arms crossed irritably across his chest. Three silver-trimmed belts cinched black woolen pants to his waist, the garment fastened at the ankles with leather thongs. A practice sword hanging from either hip, Hiei spread his bare feet into a ready stance even as he watched Kuwabara, toes hugging the lush grass.

When the taller man replied with only incoherent squawks, he snorted. "Useless."

Hiei glanced over his shoulder as I walked through the chattering lilies, ruby eyes long dulled currant with boredom. "Kurama, I don't know why you insist on training this fool – a woman would fare better in battle."

"Hey!" Kuwabara growled, closing the space between them with four easy strides. Hiei maintained his apathetic air even as the taller man breached his personal space, towering at least two heads over him. "My sister is way stronger than you – Shizuru could beat you to a pulp any day and she wouldn't even need a sword!"

Hiei raised a dark brow, though otherwise his disinterested demeanor remained. "You've just proven my point." When it became apparent that frustration effectively tied Kuwabara's tongue the shorter man turned, shaking his head as he walked back under the orchard's canopy. "Idiot."

Only then did Kuwabara find his voice. "Hey! Say that to my face!" When Hiei's steps did not slow, the young knight smirked. "Oh, that's right, you can't because you're so _short_!"

I sighed as he threw more colorful – albeit poorly aimed – barbs, all of which went ignored. Finally, I raised a placating hand. "All right now, that's enough."

Immediately, shallow-set black eyes fell to meet my gaze, struggling between watching his retreating opponent and his liege. "B-but he said–"

"He's only trying to help you, Kuwabara." A smile pulled at my lips even as doubt clouded his irises. "Trust me, Hiei would not have agreed to these sessions if he did not think they were worth his time and effort, regardless of whether I requested his assistance or not."

Running thick-gloved fingers through pumpkin hair done in the French style, he sighed, looking forlornly at his discarded wooden sword. "Then why can't I beat him? We've been at this for _months_ and I can't land a single hit on him!"

My smile widened as we turned to retrieve his fallen weapon, smock hem catching in the breeze. "You must remember we are both older than you, my friend – Hiei was well accomplished in swordsmanship before you were even born."

Kuwabara uttered a halfhearted response, though I could not hear his words over the chattering of the lilies. The elegant flowers parted easily for Hiei, long stems arching away from silent feet until he stopped before the servants. He exchanged the oaken weapons for his cloak without a word, fastening the garment's metal clasp before reaching once again for his silver-trimmed swords – a gift from father long ago. As he slid the scabbards into leather loops at either hip the wind caught his cloak, whipping the black cotton behind both shoulders for the briefest of moments. Frayed sunlight played against his right forearm, pressing soft lips to the dark mark curling from bulging bicep to gnarled knuckles:

A dragon with gaping mouth and hungry eyes.

 _"Lord Kurama, what possessed you to do such a thing?"_

 _Thunder clapped, offering nature's ascent to their questions as the library grew dim. Shelves boasting various manuscripts and leather-bound volumes loomed high overhead, lumbering giants turned sinister by the coming storm. Candles without number outlined each face present, noblemen who served father diligently–_

 _Men who normally returned my smiles._

 _I fought not to look at the ruined fruit at my feet, at the blood-red juices staining the plush rug._

 _A creaking of wood and lightning struck in the distance, followed by soft, insistent rain tapping against the windowpanes. I wanted to look at Asato – to apologize and ask him to play with the shadows – but my lips would not move: the memory of his and Yana's cries when they found us well above the palace walls, safe within the Diviega's ancient branches; the abject terror etched across both knights' faces as they beheld our arms laden with ruby fruit; the foreign fury rising in both men at our red-rimmed mouths and the forgotten cores lying at the base of the tree, dying the cracked grass crimson. Our trek out of the garden remained a blur but once we cleared the stone walls, strong hands awaited there, each ushering us into the castle._

 _Above all, I remembered Hiei's fear._

 _My new companion stood behind me now, pressed resolutely against the ashen wall; I would not allow him to kneel. Hiei's eyes remained inexplicably wide as he watched the men, far wider than our first meeting. Each breath caught in his narrow chest, evidenced by rippling lavender silk across his torso, though he refused to make a sound. Small hands poised like pale spiders on the aged wood; thin lips stained with fruit juice; every muscle tense, either anticipating a blow or preparing to run. His gaze never left the men spanned before us in a semi-circle though his chin visibly trembled, face blanched a lighter hue than the handkerchief encasing his forehead. I did not understand his terror; I did not understand their anger–_

 _I did not understand anything._

 _Asato sighed at my silence, rustic jerkin creasing as he glanced to his neighbor. "What should we do?"_

 _Yana's frown deepened as he tucked a blue-gray lock behind a pointed ear, soulful gaze traveling first from myself then to Hiei. "There's only one thing we **can** do."_

 _Strangling vines stretched from my stomach to ensnare my lungs as I watched the five of them step forward. The gravity of his words, the determined coldness seeping into their eyes – these were not the men I knew. "What are you doing?"_

 _A rustling at my back – Hiei's hem catching the rough-hewn wall – and they sprang as one. Yana and Asato pulled me away before I could so much as gasp while the other three laid hands on Hiei, dragging him towards the center of the room. Within seconds, they bent my frozen companion over the library's crowning glory: a grand oak table, carved from a tree older than even the Diviega._

 _"What are you doing?! Stop!" I cried, slipping from Yana's grasp only to find my body cemented in place as Asato uttered an all-too familiar word and stepped on my shadow. Try as I might, my body refused to obey – I could not move."I command you to stop!"_

 _"I'm sorry your majesty, but this is for your own good." Kaito offered gently, sparing a pitying glance as Suzaku pulled Hiei's belt loose and tugged at his cerulean breeches._

 _The peal of a strangled growl was the only warning they received._

 _Suzaku grunted as Hiei lashed out with surprising speed, landing a solid hit below the knight's waist with the ball of his foot. Kaito glanced back too late to avoid the punch aimed at his jaw and he too fell, monocle flying across the room. Momentarily free of restraining hands, Hiei sprang into a crouch where he rested on all fours atop the table, breath ragged, pupils shrunken to needlepoints. Fangs protruded where incisors had once been, breaching red-dyed lips as he growled again. Feral eyes ravenously searched each face: the two men on the floor; the gentleman who wisely kept his distance; Asato's grimace at maintaining his spell; Yana's trepidation as he reached for the sword at his hip, until finally the swirling crimson gems found me._

 _Even if Asato allowed it, I don't know if I could have moved in that moment. Hiei regarded my clenched fists, legs frozen in mid-flight, lips parted in something akin to wonder before settling on my eyes._

 _I do not know what he saw there and blamed myself for many years afterwards for what happened next._

 _Another clap of thunder and Hiei sprang, green sleeves straining as he reached for me. I opened my mouth wide to admonish him but Yana was faster, driving an elbow into Hiei's temple and sending him sprawling to the ground. "No." I whispered as Suzaku and Kaito descended upon him and he screamed, downy voice sharp as shattered glass. "Stop it!"_

 _"Little brat." Suzaku spat, tightening his hold on Hiei's hair and reaching once again for the loose cerulean folds at his waist. Kaito grunted as he secured twin holds on Hiei's arms, eyes widening at the strength in that little body as he bucked beneath them. A tearing of fabric and I saw Hiei's pupils retract further still, irises glazing aged cordial as he reared back one final time._

 _Suzaku's fingers slipped through fine raven hair and Hiei's head connected with Kaito's jaw, causing my tutor to lose his grip. Small body twisting, he fought the two with everything he had, heedless of my cries and their bitter curses. Finally, Suzaku lifted his hand from Hiei's waist in an attempt to subdue him, elegant fingers fighting for a fresh hold on his head._

 _Without warning, Hiei opened his mouth and bit off the nobleman's thumb._

 _Suzaku screamed and reared back, pressing the bleeding nub to his chest. For once, Kaito remained at a loss for words and could only stare at Hiei, who ceased struggling the moment hot blood filled his mouth. With the dignity of a cat coughing up its own fur, he spat Suzaku's thumb onto the floor, watching it roll beside the Diviega fruit with morbid fascination. After what felt like an eternity but in reality could only have been seconds, the strange light fled his eyes and beloved ruby returned, followed closely by realization and horror as he raised his head._

 _Lightning flashed and Suzaku set on him with a thunderous roar, heedless of Kaito's protests as he struck Hiei repeatedly across his face and head, knees cementing those thin shoulders in place. Hiei did not fight back, did not so much as utter a cry. Only when the gladiolas in the corner cried out and gooseflesh settled at my nape did I sense a change in the air, see the vacancy filling his eyes–_

 _Feel the temperature in the room rising rapidly._

 _Suddenly Yana appeared before me, blocking my view of Hiei's punishment. "Get the prince out of here, now!" He commanded, startling me out of my reverie._

 _"No." I whispered as Asato wrapped a sure arm around my waist, lifting me to his side effortlessly. My hands rose to his bicep and I realized with no small relief that his spell was broken. "No! Hiei!" The room passed in a blur highlighted by red eyes and we were in the corridor, dark wood spanning behind and before us as Asato fled. " **Hiei**!"_

 _My companion did not answer, though a booming far louder than any of the preceding thunderclaps shook the wing, vibrating every plank of wood from the floor to the rafters._

 _The following day, I happened by the library only to find the room in disarray and Gandara's finest carpenters repairing a breached wall, a wall they claimed was ruined when a large willow fell during the storm. I did not question it at the time, yet could not help but wonder at where such a thing came from:_

 _No trees resided anywhere near the library._

" _–_ your Highness? Hey, uh, your Highness?"

Rough sandstone at one ear brought me out of my reverie. Hiei was nowhere in sight, though I knew he remained somewhere in the orchard because the flowers continued to dance. Kuwabara stood obediently a pace or so at my back, meaty fingers wrapped around the retrieved practice sword. The polished ash complimented his honey skin – fruit of hours spent toiling in fields alongside his servants – knuckles enlarged both by countless calluses and multiple breaks over the years. Everything about Kuwabara boasted a connection with the land few could hope to possess: a hardiness often associated with undue pride; a humble spirit linked inexplicably with stupidity; an abject desire for reformation too often counted as greed. What the young man lacked in experience he more than made up for in character, which I believed to be far more important than material wealth.

Kuwabara shifted under my gaze, grip on his faux weapon tightening further. "I-is everything all right, your Highness?"

I sighed, forcing a smile and turning to face him. "Kuwabara, how long have we known one another?"

"Huh? Uh," He paused, tipping his head back while performing quick calculations with his free hand. "About five years, I guess?"

My lips relaxed into a more genuine curve at his uncertainty and I crossed my arms, banishing all tension with a single tip of my head. "And in that time, what is the only request I have made of you?"

His brow furrowed as he consciously traveled back in time, a trip which only took a matter of seconds before realization hit. Pumpkin brows raised, he bit his lower lip before answering. "To only call you by your Christian name in private."

"Correct." Conscious of three sets of prying eyes at my back, I refrained from touching the downcast man, though a shallow clearing of my throat encouraged Kuwabara to raise his head. A true smile awaited him there, one reserved for a privileged few. "Do not worry, my Kuwabara." I encouraged softly, too low for unwanted ears to hear. "I abhor the pomp and proceedings which belie my rank. Ideally, I would that everyone were at ease around me in private – if not everywhere else – but such a wish is not feasible. So please," I pressed on in spite of his obvious discomfort, motioning to the trees around us. "In this place, as well as anywhere else where privacy is afforded, I would be called Kurama."

He listened intently without interruption, taking his inner cheek between strong jaws. When I finished, Kuwabara's gaze roamed from my face to Hiei's last known location, to the lilies still swaying happily at his proximity. "Shorty doesn't have a problem calling you Kurama." He mused, chewing the hidden flesh, mail shirt and gauntlets creaking in protest as he shifted his weight. When those onyx eyes found me again uncertainty had long since fled, replaced by curiosity and the beginnings of confidence. "How long has that been going on?"

Calm understanding quickly overtook my surprise. Of course – before today, Kuwabara and Hiei had never shared my company in private. The two frequently ran across one another in court, where the latter remained civil if not polite, never uttering a harsh word and more often than not taking up some isolated corner, content with playing the quiet observer. Kuwabara did not yet know the true nature of my childhood companion, the real Hiei which for years remained reserved for my eyes only.

Reaching for the nearest tree, I answered the desperate cry of an ivy vine, allowing the tender leaves to nuzzle my fingers. Under normal circumstances I could answer such a question without guilt or shame, yet with the memory of Hiei's screams still fresh, the words came slowly, little more than a whisper on my lips. "Hiei has called me Kurama since my sixth summer."

"That long, huh?" The soft rumble drew my eyes away from the fawning plant. Kuwabara's gaze remained fixed on a cluster of dandelion blooms, jaws rolling behind closed lips. Though he did his best to hide his rising anxiety, his body betrayed him, just as it always did: Shoulder fixed awkwardly somewhere between tense and relaxed, white-knuckled fists trembling at his side, thin-skinned boots betraying the curling of his toes. A good-hearted man fully aware of his limitations, so eager to please yet always fearful of falling short; this was Kazuma Kuwabara, the fledgling I'd taken under my wing, the first noble to ever see past my false gaiety–

The only one aside from Hiei who accepted my true self.

My hand moved of its own accord to grip Kuwabara's shoulder, surprising us both. I answered his bewildered look with a smile, uncaring of who witnessed the spectacle. "Give it time, Kuwabara – Hiei has had years to grow comfortable in my company. Feel free speak your mind with either of us, we will not judge or think less of you for your private thoughts."

He wrinkled his nose, no doubt recalling the encounter with Hiei moments ago. "I'm not so sure about that . . ."

A chuckle rose unbidden on my tongue and I patted his shoulder. "You will soon learn that brevity comes as naturally to Hiei as breathing. As I told you before," I lowered my arms and turned, motioning Kuwabara to follow. "If he truly did not care for you, Hiei would never have agreed to help you improve your swordsmanship."

An incoherent mumble and he fell into step behind me, grass massaging our ankles as we made our way back to the waiting servants. "I just want to do well, you know? This could be what my family's been waiting for for years."

I afforded him a backwards glance as the canopy enveloped us in its warm embrace. During the last great war with Ysbryd, Kuwabara's grandfather fought in father's army, though his contributions to Gandara's victory were seldom mentioned: in the final battle, King Enma's soldiers broke through the royal guard and a fortunate swordsman managed to kill father's horse, stealing his sight in the process. Father's soldiers believed him dead and fled, much like deer before snapping hounds. Only Kuwabara's ancestor – a human farmer – remained to defend his king and together they fought off a whole battalion until help arrived. Father rewarded the peasant with knighthood and a seat at the royal table for he and his descendants, a constant reminder to the high-minded elves of their betrayal during the Battle of Diwedd.

Thus, Kuwabara remained determined to bring honor to his family, a glory his peers would accept.

With a nod, I allowed a dark-haired servant to fasten the cloak at my throat, velvet the shade of pine needles bordered with pale fur. Kuwabara accepted his own cloak and sword with a quick 'thank you', though the servant did not answer in kind. Even as he withdrew his emotions and donned the earthen garment, I knew a rough road lay ahead of the young lord if he truly desired the respect of my people.

We walked in companionable silence for several paces, winding a lazy path through the heavy-laden orchard. Ripened cherries and plump peaches hung from nearly every branch, bathing the air in a sweet aroma even a blind bee could follow. Each tree rustled without aid from the wind, offering their wares as we passed. I acknowledged their gifts and patted the odd trunk but shook my head, encouraging them to keep their treasures with a soft word. The orchard grew still after that yet I felt the trees smile, bark thrumming with barely contained mirth.

All of this Kuwabara watched in silence until finally he shook his head, daring to fall into step by my side. "I still don't see how you can do that."

Lifting a hand from rustling peach bark, I glanced at him, uncaring of the three men behind us. "Do what?"

"Talk to the trees. I mean, they talk to me a lot but I can't understand what they're saying."

That admission stilled my step and I turned to stare at my burly companion, giving him my full attention. "You can hear the plants' song?"

"Well, yeah." A blush dusted his cheeks and he stopped as well, rubbing his neck with a self-conscious hand. "I've listened to the flowers in sis's garden since I was a kid. Just–" His eyes found the grass once more, shame darkening the tips of his ears. "I can't understand them."

The last came out as little more than a mumble, yet the soft words filled me with joy. "That's wonderful news, Kuwabara."

Instantly, his eyes found mine once again, though I could not tell whether the statement or my smile surprised him more. "H-how is not understanding _good_?"

"You can hear the plants, Kuwabara – only about a quarter of Gandara's people can make such a claim. So long as you can hear them, you can be made to understand; all that is needed is the proper training."

I cherished watching tender hope bloom in his eyes, banishing all uncertainty and knowledge of his short-comings, if only for a moment. Over the span of several centuries, the people of Gandara worked to form a unique bond with the fauna encompassing much of the country, a relationship passed down from generation to generation: to those whom could hear nature's song, the plants promised their aid and cooperation; in return, the hearers promised their respect and to share their energy with them, which the fauna claimed tasted far sweeter than sunlight. Both father and I could hear the plant's song and call upon them at will, an accomplishment few in court could boast.

Kuwabara's mouth fell open and it took him two attempts to close it, swallowing hard before questioning, "Do . . . Do you mean that?"

I nodded, head dipping into a short bow. "I will see to it personally."

No words can accurately describe his gratitude. After a few failed attempts, Kuwabara managed to thank me, going so far as to kneel on the hard earth and press his forehead against a metal-clad knee. He remained in that position for several moments before finally acquiescing to my protests and making his way back to his feet, face beaming all the while.

Not for the first time, I noticed the servants grimace at our proximity, yet chose to ignore their disapproving looks. No friendly contact with another noble could be considered meet for punishment, no matter how lowly the noble in question appeared in the eyes of the court.

Besides, with father here to greet our coming guest, I knew Hiei would be safe.

"Hey, Kurama?"

The uncertainty in his voice slowed my step, yet we did not stop again. Doubtless, every servant in father's house would know of today's events by sunset – I did not wish to add another spectacle to the list.

Taking the pause for what it was, Kuwabara continued. "Who'd you say is visiting today? If his Majesty is going to all this trouble for one guy, he must be really important, right?"

An affirmative hum and I nodded, keeping my gaze fixed on the end of my domain – the edge of the orchard. "Lord Yusuke is the crown prince of Tourin, our northernmost neighbor. He and I are distant cousins, though we have not seen each other in quite some time."

I saw Kuwabara nod from the corner of my eye, understanding lighting his ruddy face. "How long has it been, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Twenty years, I suppose." The figure rolled readily off my tongue, insensitive to my friend's glaring humanity. At Kuwabara's shock, I quickly added, "I am sure you two will get along well – Yusuke actually reminds me of you a good bit, Kuwabara."

"R-really? You mean it?"

I nodded as the Diviega – the orchard's treasure – came into view. The Diviega's trunk stretched high above the stone gate seperating the behemoth from its companions, proud arms raised ever-skyward. Hiei waited there: back pressed against the outermost stone wall, head turned towards the lawn surrounding the castle, granting us the illusion of privacy. Even though he did his best to ignore them, his brow twitched involuntarily at the high-pitched attentions of the daffodils surrounding him, feet carefully crossed at the ankles to avoid crushing the yellow flowers.

Kuwabara looked as if he wished to say something about the daffodils doting over the tempermental man, yet he kept his peace. Even as my eyes traveled once again to the tattoo marring Hiei's right arm, I could not help but think that perhaps Yusuke's visit was of divine ordinance and would benefit both my country and those I held dear.

Only time would tell.

A/N: Hello everyone! Thank you so much for your reviews and the follows/favoriting of this story! Sorry this update took so long: life happened and I've been doing additional research of this time period, as well as getting to know the Kurama of this world better.

This story will be told partly in the present and partly in the past through dreams/flashbacks. Although I do not plan for each chapter to contain a look at the past, I know the next one definitely will. So, if jumping between Kurama's past and present was a bit disorienting, don't worry – it's supposed to be. Also, the importance of plants and their song will be delved into soon, so no worries if that was confusing too.

More familiar faces and other goodies await in the next chapter. Please let me know what you think of the story so far: creating a literary world is challenging yet loads of fun and any feedback is appreciated. :)


	3. Fit For a King

_A true friend is one who_

 _overlooks your failures and_

 _tolerates your success!_

 _Doug Larson_

Chapter 2: Fit For a King

 _"Hiei?"_

 _No response, not that I truly expected one. Crushing silence stretched from unfeeling stone, walls normally able to house five men walking abreast of one another now too narrow to hold a single boy. Hiei's dinner tray sat cooling at my feet – a gift from a less-than-eager maidservant – my sole defense against the invisible enemy._

 _I licked my lips, willing myself to try again. Two days had come and gone since the library incident and in that time, I'd not seen my newfound friend once. The morning following the storm, father's advisers held court in the Great Hall; even Suzaku appeared, face tight as the bandages adorning his right hand. I asked the bruised elves but they refused to offer any information about my friend – most even refused to meet my gaze. I scoured the castle: various corridors, the library, kitchens and servant's quarters; I searched the gardens, orchards, and hunting grounds, yet Hiei was nowhere to be found._

 _Finally, I tried his door, though it remained closed to me._

 _The imposing wood stretched high overhead, intricate carvings telling of Gandara's war with the dragons. To my boyish mind, the might of the giant lizards appeared greater than the elves' and I could not help but wonder how we expelled them from our land so long ago. No records showed what happened to the dragons after their exodus north, a fact which always tugged the reigns of my curiosity._

 _Gathering what remained of my courage, I raised an orange-clad arm and knocked again. The dull pounding seemed to echo in the empty corridor, accompanied by the crackling of a nearby torch. "Hiei, please." I pleaded, well aware of the improbability of my reedy voice conquering the silence. "You haven't eaten anything since–" The Diviega's name stilled my tongue, forcing my eyes shut. Again, I relived his resistance in the orchard, the hesitation I was too foolish to comprehend. Again, his fear gnawed at my throat, begging for help I could not give. Then, the fangs and claws; the reptilian glint in those wild, wide eyes. A tiny hand reaching for me; Suzaku and Hiei's blood mixing with the Diviega's juices on the floor; countless screams swallowed by thunder and a blistering heat–_

 _Tears stung my cheeks as I continued to knock, hoping against hope for an answer. I needed no one to tell me what transpired was my fault – my heart attested to the fact readily. If not for my folly – my_ _ **arrogance**_ _– this never would have happened: Suzaku would still have full use of his hand and Hiei would not have been beaten like a common whelp. The hatred burning in the knight's eyes, his sick pleasure in laying hands on my friend . . . It was all my fault._

 _My hand began to bruise and shadows waxed long in the corridor, yet still he did not answer. Finally, when I could stand it no longer, I took up Hiei's tray and tried the door myself._

 _The wood gave way easily enough, swinging inward on hidden hinges. Darkness gripped with greedy fingers as the door slowly closed, drawing me further into the stone grotto. No windows adorned the walls, no candles or well-meaning torches were present to offer their cheery glow. I was no stranger to the dark, nor had I ever been foolish enough to fear it, yet the blatant animosity infecting the room, the malice churning the air itself–_

 _Every instinct beckoned me to run._

 _Heart pounding in my ears, I took first one step, then another, all the while pleading for my eyes to adjust to the gloom. When they failed to comply, I balanced the tray in one hand and used the other to comb through my hair, searching for a specific seed. When my fingers closed around an oblong kernel I paused, willing my breaths to slow and energy to flow into the precious vessel. At last, exposing the seed to the darkness, I concentrated on father's teaching and whispered. "Growan."_

 _At that word, the kernel shifted in my hand, rough exterior rippling rapidly until finally the shell split. Relief pulled at my shoulders as the tender shoot burst forth, roots weaving through my fingers as it continued to grow. I rewarded the sapling's caresses with a warm hum, allowing the shoot to stretch a moment longer before uttering "Lēoht."_

 _Instantly, the plant's thin arms began to glow, pushing the shadows back a few inches. From the shelter of light I made out the edges of a swirling carpet, the outline of a low couch, ashen branches in the shallow fireplace. Other than these articles, the sitting room remained sparsely furnished – neither tapestry nor painting covered the naked walls._

 _Swallowing hard, I forced my feet towards the hall connecting the chambers, ignoring the trembling overtaking both hands. "Hiei?"_

 _No response. The bare walls and floor unnerved me far more than the darkness because both acquiesced an absence of personality, as if the occupant possessed no mind or will of his own. Surely, embellishments were allowed in Hiei's private quarters – the one space he could completely claim as his own. The rough surface bruised my slippered feet, pulled at the silk of my robes, mocked every scrap of finery making up my world._

 _A new room interrupted the barren hall, a room boasting familiar images. A single wardrobe without doors stretched across one wall, filled to the brim with various silks, velvets, and other fine garments. Opposite the wardrobe rested a tall mirror and dressing table, both cast decidedly in shadow. Stark stone glared up from the floor and remaining walls, threatening to engulf the aged wood and glass._

 _Against my better judgment, I stepped into the dressing room. The crafted rock threatened to swallow me whole yet I ignored its gaping maw, drawing closer and closer to the table. Sweat dotted my brow, anxiety parching my tongue, gnawing at my belly. I knew my undertaking to be inappropriate: intruding upon one's chambers, especially their dressing room, insinuated a relationship of the most personal nature, one Hiei and I certainly did not possess. Fear of punishment – of Hiei being hurt again – pressed against my chest, pounded my ears like war drums, yet still my feet continued to move. The table stretched before me, a dark wolf with glinting fangs and sharpened claws lounging in this forgotten corner of the castle._

 _Then, the wood solidified under the plant's light and the table returned – a low vanity with defined grains and worn edges. Three objects rested there, each appearing perfectly content: a wash-basin, which accounted for the perceived mouth; a fine-toothed comb, each segment filed to a sharp point; and a metal circlet. The circlet captured my attention, for nothing else in the room accounted for its presence. Aged iron glared in the flickering glow, a perfect circle save for the broken clasp protruding from one side. Measuring about the size of two man's fists, the ring reminded me of tools used to discipline unruly hounds in father's kennel – collars, Kaito called them – only this one was too big to fit around a dog's neck._

 _Why would something like this be here?_

 _A muffled sob pierced the darkness, nearly causing me to drop both tray and light. I spun on my heel, staring wide-eyed at the entryway. "Hiei?"_

 _Again, no response, though the ensuing silence was comforting in a way. Only one room remained unexplored, only one place to hide:_

 _I would know that voice anywhere._

 _Willing composure to overtake me, I stepped back into the hall, following the soft cry with gentle steps. Before I was ready, Hiei's bedchamber embraced me with open arms, striking as the other rooms in its simplicity. Again, unadorned stone glared from each direction, though a small window allowed the chamber to breathe. Shelves lined one wall, skeleton-like in their barrenness save for the bottom-most plank, where a miniature portrait resided. The bed was a simple thing – a thin straw mattress atop a rough-hewn frame – though it did not look to have been used in quite some time; a minuscule rug rested at its feet. Other than those precious items, the room remained bereft of furniture or decoration of any sort, a sharp contrast to the other rooms in father's castle._

 _There, in a corner of that forgotten room, I found my friend._

 _Hiei sat with his back pressed against the wall, knees drawn to his tiny chest, face lost within quivering arms. The light betrayed the same clothes from days before adorned his body still, pale material marred by blood and vicious tears. In fact, both sleeves were missing from the silk garment, exposing honeyed skin to the open air._

 _Shame dusted my cheeks and I glanced down, studying the meager meal in my hands. The rings adorning every other finger, bejeweled fabric clinging to my wrists . . . These did not align with the decrepit state of Hiei's chambers, his state of undress, the dull circlet in the next room–_

 _Such things did not belong in my world._

 _"Hiei?"_

 _I shrank under the sound of my own voice – a shrill note broken by inexperienced lips. Hiei stiffened, head shrinking further into the cocoon of limbs. His arms remained tense, the motions of misery replaced by a darker emotion I could not quite place. Anxiety ravaged my stomach, squeezed my lungs and throat with bruising intensity; the plant in my palm trembled. "Hiei?"_

 _"Go away."_

 _The muffled hiss arrested my ears, stilled the breath in my lungs. Gone was the downy voice I longed to hear, light as the birth of springtime. Each syllable warbled, bled, as if pierced with the thorns of a thousand roses._

 _Not a shred of familiarity remained in that voice._

 _No, Hiei sounded cold; distant–_

 _Angry._

 _Licking dry lips, I dared another step into the room, brandishing the tray as an offering. "I thought you might be hungry – you haven't come to dinner in two days."_

 _If possible, he grew even more still; I doubted he dared to breathe. The plant shrank back against my palm as I took yet another step; only three paces separated us now. "Don't worry, no one's cross with you over what–"_

 _I nearly swallowed my tongue as the next step bathed Hiei thoroughly in light. More pale scars stretched slender fingers up his nape, though they are not what stoppered my voice. A hideous mark ensnared his right arm, spiraling from shoulder to bludgeoned knuckles. The ink composing the mark was black, abysmal, and humming with latent power; only the most skilled magicians could craft such a thing. I knew the mark to be fresh because the flesh surrounding it shone pink – an uncanny mixture of light and dark. Finally, my eyes allowed me to see the end of the tattoo, a defined shape on the back of Hiei's hand: the mark narrowed there with surprising precision, forming a serpentine head with savage horns and flowing whiskers; gaping jaws threatening to eat the fingers set before it; twin vermilion slits which saw all, scheming, terrifying–_

 _The dragons from the door flashed before my eyes._

 _A mirthless chuckle, far too old for his throat. "Happy now, your highness?"_

 _Venom laced each word, ravaged the question I knew he didn't expect me to answer. "Hiei, what happened? Who did this to you?"_

 _Still, he refused to lift his head. Some of the tension fled those small shoulders as he sighed, retreating further inside his cocoon. "Go away."_

 _I could not reconcile the boy before me with the companion I'd come to know over the past week. Perhaps this is what caused my feet to move closer still, my lips to form words of their own accord. "I didn't know – I swear I didn't know." Mere inches separated us now and I bit my lip, willing him to understand. "Hiei, please–"_

 _"I said go away!" He screamed, uncurling and leaping to his feet in one fluid motion. The tray flew from my hand, crashing against the opposite wall with a resounding clatter. Broth and choice morsels rained down on us, clinging to both clothes and hair; multiple dishes shattered on the unfeeling floor. A fierce grimace marred Hiei's face, a worthy companion to the various welts and bruises dwelling there. One eye was swollen shut, both lips were the color of plums ripe for the picking. The white handkerchief retained its post across his forehead, bone-white amidst abundant browns, yellows, purples and reds. Tears carved deep rivulets through the chaos of color, seeping from inflamed lids to drip from his quivering chin._

 _For a moment, I could not find my voice. Mouth agape, I could only stare at those bruises, eyes wide. When my tongue finally acknowledged the command to speak, what came forth was softer than a whisper. "Hiei–"_

 _"You promised." He retracted the offending arm, hugging it tightly to his chest. All the while, the dragon continued to watch me with those intelligent eyes, pink skin glaring from each dark fold. "You promised . . ."_

 _My throat constricted and suddenly both eyes watered, brimming with unshed tears. "I'm sorry." I whispered, forcing myself to memorize his anguish – he deserved that much. "I'm so sorry . . ."_

 _Rather than answer, he reclaimed his former position against the wall, sliding down until he sat amidst the broken dishes and soiled supper. A fresh sob wracked those shoulders and once again he pressed his forehead against his knees, sheltering the dragon with his body._

 _I spoke his name twice more but he ignored me, lost in his misery. Finally, I forced myself to leave him there, setting the lamp plant down before stumbling back through the darkness._

A dull clang drew me from my reverie. Kuwabara sighed, leaning against a stout peach tree. Hiei maintained his position at the wall partitioning father's garden from the rest of the orchard, dreaded dragon hidden beneath the folds of his dark cloak. He kept his gaze fixed on the castle set atop the nearest hill, on the mighty battlements overlooking the capital below. Though he did not say a word, the tension in his shoulders betrayed his unease; the proximity of his hands to his weapons gave away his anxiety. A flicker of red – one a casual observer would certainly miss – and I understood his sentiments exactly:

It was time for our unwanted guests to leave.

Donning a smile, I turned to face our attendants. "Thank you, gentleman." Nodding to each in turn, fresh orders fell from my tongue like drops of balm, instantly soothing the frowns from their faces. "Would you see to it that our robes for receiving Lord Urameshi are prepared? And you, please make sure my cousin wants for nothing during his stay." The two nodded and I turned to the final servant, the youngest of the three. "Please inform King Yomi that Lord Kuwabara, Hiei and myself have an important matter to attend to and will await him shortly."

Kuwabara perked up at this but remained silent. The elf simply bowed his head, though not quickly enough for me to miss the slight swelling of his chest. With that, the three men strode into the sunshine with purpose, leaving us alone.

A groan filled the air and Kuwabara removed his gauntlets, fanning his face with the pliable leather. "Why is it so _hot_ today?"

Hiei spared him a sideways glance, silver sword hilts gleaming at either elbow. "You are the fool who dressed in full armor for a training session."

"Hey!" The young knight growled, mopping his forehead with the corner of his cloak. "You're the one who told me to come prepared! We're training for the tournament, remember? Besides, this is what's worn during–"

"You would never wear such a thing in a real battle – armor is required in tournaments only because pampered nobles would fall on their swords otherwise." Hiei snorted, sliding both hands into deep trouser pockets. "In a true fight, you must sacrifice protection for mobility – every warrior knows that."

Before the situation could escalate any further, I stepped between the two, offering Kuwabara a reassuring smile. "Hiei is right: you should work to master your chosen weapon rather than relying on external forces for protection, Kuwabara."

Rather than argue, he submitted and continued to fan himself, uncaring of the pumpkin curls falling from their carefully greased prison. "You said we still have something to do before we head back, didn't you, your high–" Jaws snapping shut, Kuwabara caught his mistake just in time.

However, he nearly swallowed his tongue in the process.

Chuckling, I stepped away from the young knight, offering him the illusion of privacy to carry out his coughing fit. A soft snort sounded at my elbow, yet I turned to find Hiei's attention garnered by the forested hills surrounding us, uncaring of Kuwabara's plight.

Fixing my eyes northward, I waited until he regained his breath before answering. "Yes."

Clearing his throat once more, Kuwabara straightened, a motion caught in the corner of my eye. "What is it, if you don't mind me asking?"

A smirk creased my lips as the wind crept into our haven, bringing with it an all-too familiar scent. "We must welcome our guest."

All at once, the daffodils sang a clear, unified note, lifting heavy heads and gaping tongues skyward. Whatever Kuwabara thought to say fled as he watched the swaying stalks, marveled at the petals fluttering like so many ribbons in a dancer's hands. The flowers twirled faster still, kissing one another with tender pecks, leaves trapping Hiei's ankles in a warm embrace.

I could not help but smile at their happiness – nothing transpired in Gandara without their knowing.

"He's coming."

The statement rolled off of Hiei's tongue easily, matter-of-fact and devoid of emotion, yet it sent the daffodils into a frenzy. Their song rose to painful pitches as their grip on him tightened, curling in on themselves and attempting to leap from their earthen beds. They knew leaving the dirt would mean their lives but they did not care – so great was their joy.

Kuwabara blinked, gaze roaming from the yellow dancers to the shorter man. "Who?"

Hiei sneered, hands emerging from his pockets only to rest on either sword hilt. "Open your ears." Jaw set, his eyes remained set on one slope in particular, cool crimson devouring every sign of life. He never once looked at Kuwabara.

"Hey–!"

I lifted a hand, demanding quiet as I surveyed the hill as well. The hand ran through the hair at my temple without my consent, fingertips brushing a painfully round ear. Though father contested I was his rightful son and heir, my appearance had long been a subject of court gossip. Frankly, I did not look like the other royals of Gandara: my eyes and hair were not dark, nor were my ears elongated, a trait which distinguished my kind from all other races. Also my hearing, though better than a human's, fell short of even the most inept of elves, a fact which caused me no small amount of grief. Hiei's ears were rounded as well, though he suffered no lack of hearing for it – he was not a natural Gandaran, after all.

If not for his red eyes and my scarlet hair, anyone would have mistaken us for humans.

The drums reached my ears first, beaten by strong, steady hands – an instrument of war transformed into one of pleasure. Each stroke seeped into the ground as so much liquid, watering every thirsty root. The grass and flowers accepted the gift readily; still clinging to Hiei's ankles like an adamant lover, they adjusted their movements to the foreign beat, losing themselves once again to song.

Next came the pipes: hundreds of reedy voices rained over the horizon, the type which gained their gusto from the skins of sheep or goats. Where air failed one set, three more rose to take its place, lifting anthems only the players could truly understand. Single wooden flutes proceeded next, followed by the trumpets, golden notes voicing heaven's approval of what was to come. Finally, countless measured steps emerged only to blend seamlessly with the drumbeats, along with the prattle of beasts.

The very air vibrated with sound when at last Kuwabara heard the procession, gaze moving from the flaunting flowers to the horizon just as the first figures emerged from the trees. Two men on matching ruddy horses crested the hill, bearing banners coated in yellow and blue on long poles. Simple plate encased the chests of both horse and riders; aside from a thick leather garment which fell to the knee, the men's legs were bare. Bald heads brandished unabashedly in the sun, the two urged their mounts on, raising their burdens for all to see.

Lines of musicians followed in their wake, flowing into the valley in rows no less than ten men wide: Ogres bore drums which could easily house four humans on their shoulders, muscles taut beneath ruby and cerulean skin as they beat the instruments with mighty clubs. Unlike the banner bearers, they wore only well-dressed skins around their waists – their legs, feet and chests were bare. Dark hair fell down their backs in a conundrum of braids both thick and thin; a single horn protruded from their foreheads. Rows of men came next, each wielding the piped instrument unique to Tourin. Various reeds protruded from an inflated bag which hid each player's stomach; faces red with exertion, the bearded musicians continued blowing into the mouthpiece of the curious device, fingers flying to cover and uncover numerous holes. Horns grew from their temples, those of the eldest curling tightly above the shoulder much like a ram's. Each wore the same uniform: tight-fitting white shirts covered by dark blue plaids of fine cotton belted at the waist and trimmed with red fur, most likely that of a deer; pale leggings bled into boots so caked with mud it was impossible to determine their true color. Braids adorned these heads as well, though the style in which they were fashioned varied from row to row. A sword rested securely across each back, sheaths marked by the tell-tale signs of battle.

The trumpeters followed, brass instruments catching each ray of light as they blew a resounding melody. Though they were dressed in the same fashion as their neighbors, each had a bow slung over his shoulder, a quiver of green-fletched arrows at his side. Again, each head was braided after a fashion and a different style ruled each row. Finally came the flutists, wearing dark tunics and white vests. The flutists' shaved heads immediately caught my eye, as did their lack of horns, though the axes strapped to either hip dispelled any question of their ability as warriors.

Then, a curious sight overtook the hill. An iron carriage drawn by four stallions emerged from the forest, each beast large enough to be ridden by the preceding ogres. The carriage bore the emblem of Tourin's royal family on its side and was surrounded by three rows of men, all armed to the teeth. Much like the flutists, their heads were devoid of both hair and horns, yet they carried themselves with an air the musicians lacked; each stared straight ahead, granite eyes focused on the backs of their companions. These men wore dark attire, devoid of ornate patterns or any identifiable features:

They were the prince's guard and felt no need to hide it.

"Nice, huh?"

Rosemary and mint flooded my nose and I smiled in spite of myself. Kuwabara jumped at the voice while Hiei and I took our time turning, knowing full well who we'd find there. Yusuke Urameshi stood at the far end of the garden wall, a cocky grin twisting his lips. An ivy green plaid trimmed in ermine covered his shoulders, stretching easily to meaty calves enshrined in sapphire breeches. Unlike the men below, Yusuke's boots possessed an incredibly thin sole and were cut just above the heel, exposing both ankles to the open air. Dark hair fell to his waist; each section bore a different style and number of braids, as if he'd allowed a child to dress the locks. Thick horns grew from either temple, frozen in their ascent over his ears; both were two finger's width thick, barren of the ribbed crown which normally adorned his head. One hand rested on his hip while the other brandished a studded club as tall as he. As usual, my cousin wore no tunic to speak of.

Amber eyes glinting, Yusuke swung the weapon over one shoulder and strode towards us. "Figured you'd be up here hiding, fox boy. Good thing I–"

"Stay back!" Immediately, Kuwabara's back obscured my vision. Retreating a step, I saw the knight taking a ready stance before Yusuke, practice sword perfectly poised. Though I stood half a head taller than Yusuke, Kuwabara towered over my cousin, who appeared as bewildered as I at the knight's actions.

Kuwabara sank deeper into his stance, knuckles white as they gripped the wooden weapon. "Don't move." He ground out, glaring at his opponent.

Yusuke stopped, uncharacteristically obedient before the anomaly of Kazuma Kuwabara. Brow raised, he glanced from the human to me before finally settling on Hiei. "What's up with this guy?"

"He was dropped on his head as an infant." Hiei's gaze shifted from our guest to Kuwabara, sliding his hands back into his pockets. "Repeatedly."

Kuwabara further tightened his grip on the sham sword; he never once took his eyes off of Yusuke. "Hiei, what are you doing? Get the prince out of here!"

Hiei snorted, mouth fixed in an unrelenting sneer. "If you think he's an enemy, then you really are an idiot."

Finally, Kuwabara glanced at Hiei, a sharp look filled with determination and a trace of fear. "What are you talking about? Can't you sense it?! He's–"

"It's all right." My voice caused him to falter further and I smiled, stepping into his line of sight. "I am honored by what you are trying to do but it is entirely unnecessary." Before he could speak, I gently forced his weapon down, motioning with my free hand. "Yusuke, this is Kazuma Kuwabara, grandson of Modig Kuwabara." Both dark brows rose at this, though he did not interrupt me. I extended my hand towards our guest, glancing back at my friend as I did so. "Kuwabara, I would like to introduce you to my cousin: this is Prince Yusuke of the Urameshi clan, son of Raizen and heir to the kingdom of Tourin."

Kuwabara's eyes widened, realization painting both irises milky gray as he gazed mutely between the two of us. Precious seconds passed, during which his skin underwent a radical transformation, shifting from warm copper to sickly green before finally settling on dismal ash. Both hands trembled, a sensation which soon overtook his entire body; fresh perspiration dotted his brow even as goose flesh crept up his neck. Baseless syllables rose in his throat once, twice, yet never made their way past his lips.

Yusuke shifted his weight even as my nose wrinkled at Kuwabara's fear, an acrid stench for which words could do no justice. Sidling closer to me, Yusuke cupped a hand over his mouth, though the heightened pitch of his voice destroyed all illusions of privacy. "I think you broke him."

Suddenly, Kuwabara threw the practice sword away and fell on his face, a clumsy series of motions only humans could manage. The air sang with the clanging of armor as he prostrated himself before Yusuke, chin dragging the ground with each word he spoke. "I-I'm so sorry, your Highness! I didn't . . . If I knew who you were, I never would have–" He swallowed audibly, thickly, clenching tufts of grass in shaking fists. "Please forgive me!"

My cousin listened to Kuwabara's pleas with something akin to confusion, blinking every so often. For his part, Hiei's smirk fell as he watched the display, though he made no move to help the knight.

All mirth drained away as the gravity of the situation set in. The law in both Tourin and Gandara were clear on threats to a noble's life: if one were caught in such an act, the sentence was death. Kuwabara's threat, while committed in ignorance, remained a capital crime in both of our lands. Hiei and I had both witnessed it, and that was all the evidence Yusuke would need if he wanted Kuwabara's life in recompense.

No one, not even my father, could offer protection from a noble collecting his blood price.

Yusuke's eyes softened to aged honey and he stepped closer to the human, extending a bare arm. "It's cool, man."

Kuwabara raised his head faster than I thought possible, face shifting from resigned terror to disbelief as he stared at that arm. "Y . . . your majesty?"

"I said don't worry about it, all right? Accidents happen – just don't do it again." Yusuke offered him a genuine smile, fingers outstretched. "C'mon, get up."

After a moment's hesitation, the knight accepted his offer, hand settling awkwardly in Yusuke's smaller appendage as he helped him to his feet. Though Kuwabara stood a full head taller than he, my cousin met his gaze with no conscience of height, more than could be said for a number of nobles I knew. "And by the way," He continued, tucking a particularly rebellious braid behind one ear. "Whatever Kurama said about calling him 'your highness' and all that crap goes double for me." Yusuke shrugged at Kuwabara's open stare, brushing imaginary dirt off of his plaid. "I get enough of that from Hokushin – I don't need to hear it from you."

Kuwabara nodded mutely and I stepped forward, garnering Yusuke's attention. "Where is Hokushin?"

My cousin's lips split in a sly smirk and he took a step towards the tree line, motioning to the procession below. "Down there, making sure 'Lord Yusuke' doesn't do anything stupid."

A bark of laughter from Hiei and I sighed, noting the various beasts bearing material goods into the capital. "You're going to make him lose what little hair he has left."

"Oh, it's all gone now; but that's the old man's fault, not mine." Suddenly the light fell from his eyes and he frowned, lips pressed into a tight line.

The flowers halted their dance, suddenly stricken, even with the music playing below. Unease wrapped thorned vines around my stomach as I watched Yusuke, brows furrowing at his unnatural shift in emotion.

Before I could form a response, however, he waved a sun-kissed hand, shouldering his club once more. "Anyway, it shouldn't be long now." A fresh grin split those cheeks, giving him the appearance of a cat rewarded with cream. "Wonder what he'll threaten to do this time?"

"Yusuke, you really shouldn't torture him so." Another sigh escaped my lips even as he strode towards the end of my domain, knowing I fought for a lost cause. "Hokushin has served your family faithfully for many years–"

"Hey, I keep him on his toes – he should be _thanking_ me!"

Hiei snorted, carefully disentangling his feet from the daffodils before falling into step alongside him. "Where did you leave him this time?"

Yusuke tipped his head back for a second, seemingly lost in thought. "Some hicktown about fifty miles north of here. Snuck out when we stopped to feed the horses, watched them march off and everything." The smirk made a triumphant return as he glanced down at Hiei, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Last I saw, Hokushin was going over proper court etiquette with a scarecrow in the royal carriage."

Another impolite sound bubbled from Hiei's throat and I shook my head, moving to follow the two. Just as the last of the pack animals entered the capital below, a throaty bellow reached my ears, carried by a breath of wind. "LORD YUSUKE!"

The lord in question froze before releasing a low groan, raking thick fingers through the conundrum on his head. "Well, that didn't last long."

Hiei snorted as they began their trek anew, careful to step a pace or so behind Yusuke.

Just before leaving the sanctuary, a slender blade of grass tapped my ankle, beckoning me to turn back. Kuwabara still stood where Yusuke had left him, staring after the prince with an inscrutable expression. "Kuwabara?"

He visibly started, bending to retrieve his fallen weapon before meeting my gaze. He'd regained much of his former complexion, though hints of moss and ash lingered here and there. "Has . . . he always been like that?"

"Yusuke?" I smiled at his curt nod, watching my cousin grin at Hiei over his shoulder while reenacting his grand escape. "Yes, for as long as I can remember."

After a moment's consideration, he nodded once again, sallow cheeks warming as we stepped into the sunlight. "He'll make a good king."

A soft hum and we descended the hill, a lazy pace timed by distant drumbeats and Yusuke's laughter. "Yes, I believe that as well."

A/N: I'm alive! Sorry for the delay in this update! Halfway through this chapter, my computer came under attack and was out of commission for nearly a month. Thankfully, everything is mostly back to normal now.

Big shout-out to my beta-readers Candid Ishida and Kuramasgirl19769! Thank you guys so much!

A couple of cultural notes: even though this is an AU, the story takes place roughly in the 1300-1400s. That being said, there are no references to kilts being seen in Scotland until the 1500s; however, plaids are mentioned multiple times as being worn by both Scottish men and women. A plaid is essentially a long cloak worn over the shoulders which may or may not be belted at the waist. Normally, a tunic and breeches were worn under a plaid but honestly, I can't see Yusuke completely conforming to the dress code of _any_ age, so that's that.

Also, during this time period the Scots wore their hair long and hair was typically decorated in an assortment of braids. This applies to both men and women, and thus why Yusuke arrives with a glorious mane done in braids. The reason behind the variety of braids in his hair will be explained.

Finally, the "blood price" Kurama mentions is more commonly known as _weregild_. Weregild is an Anglo-Saxon custom which places monetary value on people. Under the weregild system, if one were to kill another, the killer had the option to pay the family what the man/woman was deemed to be worth. If the killer did not pay, the family could enact their right of weregild and kill him/her. The idea I tried to portray is that by pointing a weapon at Yusuke, Kuwabara threatened a prince's life, which is a big no-no in just about any culture. In this AU, weregild can be exacted from threats to a noble's life as well as actually killing the noble himself.

So, a new prince has arrived on the scene! What will happen in Gandara during Yusuke's visit? Can Kuwabara win honor for his family during the festivities? And why is the crown prince of Tourin visiting, anyway? Find out next time! Please let me know your thoughts/opinions through a review or PM!


	4. Uninvited Guests

_The language of friendship is_

 _not words but meanings._

 _Henry David Thoreau_

Chapter 3: Uninvited Guests

One time-honored privilege enjoyed by royals has always been remaining untouchable by anyone, save the king.

My cousin, of course, was no exception to this rule.

Chaos greeted us as we crossed the bridge leading to the castle. Never in all my years had I traveled more than twenty miles from Schloss Wald, the nest of kings and the heart of Gandara. Constructed after the Dragon's War, the castle stretched nearly a kilometer high, though neither the height nor magnitude of the fortress embedded it in the souls of our people. Wishing to ensure a lasting connection with the land, my ancestors petitioned the surrounding forests for aide in creating a place for us: a home which could never be taken away by any race, dragon, human or otherwise. The flora gratefully complied, lending their power and bodies to the first Gandarans in exchange for their friendship and respect in the coming generations. The resulting covenant was Schloss Wald – a living castle made from those early trees as well as choice hewn stones. Whereas certain corridors consisted of rock, much of the fortress was formed from the branches and trunks of various trees, trees which even now continued to grow and breathe.

Leading our companions, Yusuke and I nodded to the sentries posted on the battlements above, who in turn hailed greetings which were lost in the madness. The lows and braying of various beasts filled the air as men of all shapes and sizes rushed about, calling for their lord. Instruments lay in barely distinguishable lines across well-worn stones, abandoned and in mortal danger of being trampled underfoot. The ogres stood to one side, motioning with great arms while conversing in their peculiar tongue. Bearded men scattered about the courtyard, some racing up narrow stairs to the battlements, others working to calm anxious pack animals, curved horns glinting in the sun. Four bald warriors remained stationed around Tourin's royal carriage, faces set in determined grimaces as they watched their companions; the carriage door hung at an angle, as if pried open by a giant's hands. The rest of the shaved men stood at the base of the Great Hall's steps, the eldest of whom was locked in a screaming match with Kaito.

Hokushin's thin cheeks deepened from red to purple as he swept an encompassing arm over the courtyard, staff pointed towards the empty carriage, lips curling to reveal fangs at whatever comment my tutor made. Yellow plaid brushing Kaito's violet breeches, the oni snarled something I couldn't quite make out. Yusuke snickered; I felt more than saw Hiei smirk. From the corner of my eye, I saw Kuwabara pale at the display, at the tension singing from those surrounding the two elders. "Shouldn't we stop them?"

Yusuke snorted at a particularly colorful comment from his guardian, planting his club before leaning forward and resting his chin on the back of a thick hand. "Nah, let 'em have their fun. They'll notice us eventually."

And notice they did, though it took several moments. By the time a young throat hailed Yusuke, Hokushin's face had long since darkened to blue whereas green dyed Kaito's cheeks; both men's fists trembled. However, every soul fell silent when my cousin responded with a resounding yell, hoisting his weapon atop his shoulder. Yusuke's countrymen shifted from shock to relief and swept towards him in a flood of pounding steps, each voice boasting a different question. I quickly stepped away from the oni prince; Hiei and Kuwabara followed suite, observing the elder clansmen's scolding with veiled amusement.

Chastisement varies greatly from kingdom to kingdom and even from house to house, each following after the customs of his people as well as his own passions. So, imagine my surprise when several of the gray-whiskered men laid hands on my cousin, tugging his braids, his horns, slapping the back of his head and shoulders. Yusuke took all of this in stride, of course, offering only half-formed protests muffled by robust laughter and exaggerations of pain. Kuwabara observed all this with open wonder, jaw agape and eyes wide at the audacity of the Tourites. Dancing tiger lilies brought my attention to Hiei, who watched the display with taut cheeks, teeth clamped tightly together behind relaxed lips. Whatever he thought of the display remained hidden behind impenetrable ruby, though I noted the arms crossed across his tiny chest, left carefully shielding the tattoo marring the right:

Arms riddled with scars.

Eventually, Yusuke pried himself away from the doting men, tossing a good-natured barb at one or two elders before turning to the group at the steps. Neither side moved as he stepped forward – sparse inches separated Kaito and Hokushin still. The sunny yellow of oni plaids clashed with the fine-spun greens and violets of elfin vests, bald heads soaring over dark hair while elongated ears twitched with each step the prince took. Yusuke had the decency to attempt humility once he reached Hokushin, glancing up at the taller man while biting back a roguish grin.

Only then did the royal guard move, following Hokushin's lead as he retreated from the bottom step to stand before his lord. Rather than kneel, however, the hornless man handed his oak staff to a warrior as he studied Yusuke with furrowed brow, coal eyes calm despite the tightness of his jaw.

Then, without warning, he grabbed two fistfuls of braids before slamming his forehead against Yusuke's with a resounding 'crack'.

"Nyaff!" Hokushin snarled, uncaring of Yusuke's anguished cry. Tightening his grip, the elder further ground his forehead against my cousin's, nose brushing the younger man's with each word. "I'll gie ye a skelpit lug!"

"Oi, oi! Keep the heid!" Yusuke shouted, trying and failing to escape Hokushin's grip.

"Haud yer wheesht!"

My hand flew to my mouth, though not in time to fully suppress my mirth. Hiei snorted, though otherwise did not react to the exchange. Kuwabara, on the other hand, appeared as thunderstruck as the other Gandarans at Hokushin's behavior, as well as the fact that none of Yusuke's vassals moved to stop the elder oni.

"Bawheid! You're a wee scunner!"

Finally, after one final twist of braids, Hokushin released Yusuke and straightened, uncaring of his own angry forehead. Yusuke, on the other hand, bent over and took turns clutching at his scalp and face, club long-since forgotten at his feet. Breathing a low curse, he peeked at his guardian between splayed fingers. "Geez, Hokushin! I wasn't gone _that_ long!"

"It's the principle of the matter, Lord Yusuke." Hokushin rumbled before reclaiming his staff and dropping to one knee, a motion which every Tourite followed as one. Yusuke straightened as the elder bowed his head, dark eyes hidden from view. "You are the hope of Tourin – you are our light. If something were to happen to you, my lord, think of what it would do to your country, to your _people_!" He shook his head, as if to discard the thought. "Our shortcomings are many, my prince, but please, do not fault us for our desire to protect you."

I watched many carefully constructed arguments die on Yusuke's tongue as he stared at his guardian, gaze roving over the bowed heads of his people. Even the pack animals remained silent for the proclamation, meeting his stare with dew-filled eyes.

Outraged hickory softened to powdered ochre as Yusuke placed a hand atop Hokushin's head, thumb and pinkie brushing where proud horns once rested. "Sorry." He mumbled, flexing poised fingers once before allowing the appendage to fall to his side.

Hokushin rose without a sound, a gesture emulated by his fellow countrymen. Kaito and the other Gandarans present continued their silent observation as the young prince retrieved his club, at the boy grinning from his crouch while throwing a good-natured remark at his elder.

Before Hokushin could reply, however, a new voice filled the courtyard. "Well, it appears our guests have arrived."

Every head turned as Kaito and the other nobles parted before the words like water – such was the power of that voice. Pale lips tucked seamlessly into a honeyed smile, father stood before the ancient willow doors of Schloss Wald, shadowed by an attendant on either side. Crimson breeches bled from a flowing copper tunic, both made of the finest silk, each tailored for the king's body alone. No gold adorned the royal throat; all ten lily fingers rested against well-muscled thighs, bereft of any finery whatsoever. Only the simple crown atop his head hinted at father's status: fashioned from a branch given willing by the Diviega, the polished wooden arms wove together at the ends, as if shaking hands. The artifact was old, crafted by the former king himself. My father's father:

Mine and Yusuke's grandfather.

Smiling still, father descended the steps without hesitation, face turning as if to take in the crowd before him. Of course, every man present could see the scar marring his face from temple to temple – the scar which long ago robbed him of his sight. Bright dahlias, yarrow, and fire lilies danced in their respective beds around the court's perimeter, soft peonies cooing as father passed. Every Gandaran bowed before their king, torsos perpendicular with the ground. Kuwabara followed suite without hesitation, though he could not bow low due to the metal encasing his body. Hiei and I bent at a modest 45 degree angle; there was a procedure to such things, after all.

Father paused near the center of the courtyard, reaching towards a minuscule bed which somehow had avoided being trampled in the forgotten panic. Slender wood sorrel rose to meet his hand, stems curling around his fingers, plum-centered leaves nuzzling his palm reverently. Downy vinca heads brushed the hem of his robes, touched the tips of his boots with definite shyness. The other flowers chattered even as the chosen blossoms kissed their king, green arms reaching to no avail. No matter how they wished otherwise, the flowers could only leave their beds at father's word – a command he did not offer.

Yusuke's people kept silent vigil, watching the sorrel extend well beyond its natural limits to touch father's wrist, noting how the castle walls moved behind him. Aged stone groaned ever so slightly as the great trunks breathed, each exhale rustling young branches and upsetting the occupants thereof. Birds of various shapes and color lit to older arms whereas black squirrels chased one another from tree to tree, filling the air with garbled song:

All of this from one touch of the king.

A contemplative hum and father whispered a word to the sorrel, bending to pat a cluster of vinca. Both flowers shuddered beneath his fingers, lifting chiming voices even as they pulled back to their respective beds. From the corner of my eye, I noticed a fire lily nudge the back of Hiei's knee while downy dahlias prodded his bare heels, gestures he pointedly ignored.

A smile rose unbidden on my lips – the flowers loved him almost as much as they loved father.

Only when the last leaf returned to the fold did father allow his hand back to his side, turning once more to face his guests. "Forgive them – the flowers are quite lively this time of year." He said to no one in particular, chest rising silently as he breathed in the perfume permeating the air. Unlike the courtyard's other occupants, my father carried no weapon, though he did not appear concerned about that fact. Nothing disrupted his utter calm, not the calls of the pack animals nor the whisper of cloth as the entourage shifted, uncomfortable beneath his gaze. No worry lines marred his face, despite centuries of rule during which two great wars were fought. His every word acted as a balm, soothing away whatever tension lay between his guests and subjects. In fact, I'd never once heard his voice rise in anger or passion, tingle with excitement, nor warble with sadness. No, his tone remained steadfast, no matter the circumstance. The definition of power under control:

The voice of a king.

Every Gandaran rose at some unknown signal and father glided forward, stopping a respectable distance from the young lord. Hokushin's grip on his staff tightened as Kaito and the others came to stand behind their king, though otherwise he did not move. In fact, both sides eyed each other warily, save for the two monarchs.

Yusuke dipped his head with due reverence before arching his neck, staring openly at the king as was his right. "Your Grace."

Father nodded in turn, smile softening ever so slightly at Yusuke's voice. "Your Highness."

My cousin smiled then, lips curving higher still when father placed a slender hand atop his head, thumb and pinkie resting on his horns. "You've grown, nephew."

Yusuke chuckled and nuzzled into father's hand, completing the traditional Tourite greeting. "And you haven't changed a bit, uncle."

This earned a chuckle, honey dripping thick and slow from father's lips as he allowed his hand to fall away. "Tell me," He said, turning towards the various horses and mules. "What have you brought for us, Lord Yusuke?"

The oni prince grinned, fangs shining as he gestured to specific sections. "Cotton and choice cloths; gold and jewels, compliments of the old man." Hokushin cleared his throat at this, a motion ignored by his lord. "There's silver in there somewhere too, and copper." He lifted his club, pointing out a few dozen horses. "Let's see . . . There's meat for your table: red deer, pine marten, hare, seals, and some whale; took it down myself about a week ago." Yusuke announced even as his chest swelled with pride. A sound very much like a groan emanated from Hokushin which, again, went ignored. "Then there's oats, turnips and potatoes; leeks, cabbage and kale. Also, we brought gifts for your healers: tormentil, bog myrtle, heather; ivy, burdock and sundew. There's some centaury in there too but I'd be careful using it."

Another chuckle and father shifted towards the unspecified horses, unseeing gaze curious. "And what of the rest?"

"Oh, those are for us." Yusuke smirked at father's raised brow, leaning once more against his club. "To be honest, your fruity drinks just don't do it for us, your Majesty. So, we brought our own so we can get good and–"

Finally, Hokushin saw fit to intervene and shifted, striking Yusuke on the back of the head with his staff. The motion was not pronounced by any means – the common observer would surely have missed it – though the blow filled the air with a resounding 'crack'. Whatever Yusuke was about to say died on his lips as hot air seethed between clenched teeth and he bent forward, clutching his head.

Hokushin bowed to father, bending his shoulders forward as he addressed the king. "My Lord has his preferences for such things, your Majesty, and did not wish to trouble you over them."

Another chuckle and father focused his attention on the elder man, who maintained his humbled stance. "Tell us, what did you bring?"

"Whisky and ale from the royal cellars, your Majesty."

"Ah, that sounds lovely." Father turned back to Yusuke, who had finally straightened and stood rubbing the offended area. "Surely one as gracious as you would not mind sharing, Lord Yusuke?"

The man in question blinked before giving an undignified snort, smirk twisting his lips. "Think you can keep up with me, uncle?"

"We shall do the best we can." Father answered, an uncharacteristic smirk tugging at his mouth.

Only one word can accurately describe the ensuing evening – reveling.

Tables lined the great hall from one end to the other, each heavy laden with food and beverages. Various fowl, venison and other ornately dressed game decorated silver platters, juices from whole carcasses saturating the vegetation beneath with abandon. Vegetables grown both above and below ground lay at the ready, each prepared in such a way as to bring out the plant's best flavors and arranged to please the eye.

Pies and puddings comprised of both meat and fruit, hot and cold, rested humbly beside the more ornate dishes, pleased with impressing with flavor rather than grandeur.

Wine and harsher drinks flowed like water from diligent servant's hands, gifts which did not staunch until well after their recipients ceased to care.

And then, of course, there was the entertainment.

Acrobats flew through the air with no thought of personal safety, swinging higher and higher on the living walls, vaulting across the tables where entranced nobles sat. Fire eaters and sword-swallowers appeared as well, balancing atop great balls or unsteady stacks of furniture while performing their own daring acts. Round tables prepared for chess rested against one side of the room for the more reserved guests, though few occupied them now. Dancers appeared during the course of the meal, stomachs bare and long hair flying as they twirled to the alluring lilt of flutes, drums, and chimes.

I caught Yusuke eyeing these women more than once.

Father sat at the head of the main table. Mere feet from his throne, he offered his ear and a smile to any who wished to converse with him. However, the trees made this difficult at times. The ancient walls prattled endlessly throughout the meal, whispering to father in a language known only to the kings of our land – a language I was not yet old enough to learn. Yusuke sat to his left and, of course, I sat to his right. Hiei ate by my side as he always did, silent and ever watchful. Hokushin sat to Yusuke's right, doing his best to enjoy our hospitality while reigning in his Lord.

I didn't bother keeping track of the other placements for the same people dined where they always did at such events – an age-old custom ruled by rank and association with the king. However, my eyes soon found Kuwabara at the end of the last table, complexion decidedly green as he took small, careful bites off his plate. Dressed in loose blue satin – a style long since out of fashion – he appeared quite uncomfortable in the rich material and thus took extra care when moving, though his exaggerated motions caused his neighbors no small amount of mirth.

His anxiety stung my nose like so much pepper.

A nudge at my right foot drew my attention back to father's table. Hiei answered my quizzical gaze by sliding a dripping piece of meat into his mouth, years of experience keeping the offending juices away from his clothes. Many nobles despised father's allowing him to wear red in court – a privilege which had always belonged to royalty alone – and Hiei honored that allowance by handling his garments with the utmost care. Though my companion preferred black, such a drab color was not allowed in Gandaran court – not even the king could change that. So, he and father reached a compromise when we were boys: Hiei could wear whatever he wanted outside of court, but when his presence was required here, he would wear the royal colors made of whatever fabric father chose. Of course, Hiei agreed; father chose silk.

Even at that age, Hiei knew father's suggestion was not negotiable. However, the illusion of being given a choice, along with the fact that his king chose to talk the matter over with him personally, seemed to matter a great deal with Hiei.

He never complained about his court clothes, not even in private.

"So your father, our brother, is well?" Father asked before lifting a grape to his lips, wooden crown still adorning his head.

Yusuke paused his vicious assault on a leg of mutton, slowly prying his teeth away from the partially dissected bone. He took more time than necessary swallowing the meat, amber darkening to charred mahogany as he stared down at the overfull plate. "King Raizen remains unchanged, your Grace."

Father's smile slipped at the edges, lips forming a neutral line. "How do you mean?"

"If I may, your Highness." Hokushin spoke as Yusuke's gaze intensified, braids sliding past suddenly tense shoulders. "His Majesty King Raizen has neither improved nor worsened since his last visit with you – his condition remains unchanged."

After a moment's consideration, father rose to his full height in his chair, face set as if he could actually see my cousin. "We have much to discuss later, Prince Yusuke."

A nameless sound escaped Yusuke's throat as his hand balled into a tight fist against the tablecloth, dark brows furrowing.

"But such talk is not for now." And, with that, effortless calm overtook father once again. He relaxed against the high-backed chair, lifting his chalice towards Yusuke and Hokushin. "This party is for you, Prince Yusuke. Enjoy yourself."

And enjoy himself he did. Soon afterwards, Yusuke tucked into his ale with abandon, appetite all but forgotten. After draining two pints with expert precision, my cousin excused himself before making his way towards a well-endowed dancer, all bravado and theatrics as he set about impressing the brunette.

I excused myself then on the pretense of desiring a game of chess, a hint Hiei immediately picked up on. By that time, a few nobles occupied the main floor and were twirling to a performance by Gandara's best musicians, a mixed group playing flutes, lyres, drums, timbrels, as well as stringed instruments. We weaved carefully through the swaying couples before settling at an unoccupied table; one glance from Hiei was enough to dissuade any women wishing to dance.

We were several moves into our game before Hiei spoke. "He's making a fool of himself."

Pausing, I glanced at the dance floor, fingers still clasping my bishop. Yusuke had long since downed another pint and was now attempting to keep up with three dancers with bells dangling from their slender waists, tambourine in hand as he mimicked their gyrating hips. Laughing along with the women, he threw a lewd comment to the brunette from earlier, who in turn smirked and quickened her pace. At the other end of the hall, Kuwabara held a rosy-cheeked woman in his arms, lumbering form tilting this way and that as he watched his feet. Though the musicians played a simple folk dance, I saw the young knight's lips move, obviously counting steps while handling his partner as if she were made of glass. Unlike his companion, Kuwabara appeared decidedly uncomfortable, an emotion which became more apparent when she whispered something in his ear and the blood rushed to his face.

I couldn't halt the smile curling my lips. "Which one?"

Hiei snorted, propping an elbow atop his right leg, which was crossed over his left in a gentlemanly fashion. Casting a cursory glance at our game, he returned his attention to our companions, chin in hand. "Both, though I was referring to your cousin."

The words were meant for my ears alone, swift and soft as a summer breeze. We'd long-since learned the pitches which would and would not carry in court, no matter how talented the hearer. I did not attempt to conceal a chuckle at the display, moving the bishop forward three paces. "Check. You're not jealous, are you?"

He scoffed, taking my pawn with his king and effectively moving from harm's way; his eyes never left Yusuke. "He's drawing unnecessary attention to himself."

I allowed myself a quick survey of the great hall, giving the esteemed nobles careful attention. Whereas most appeared enthralled with the festivities, a select few watched my cousin with the same intensity as Hiei. Kaito and his subordinates kept vigil from their positions around father, each face bearing testament to the events from earlier that afternoon. Hokushin never faltered in his conversation with the Gandaran king, though his eyes frequently traveled to his lord, whose revelries grew louder with each song. Yana and Asato stood to either side of the main entryway, spears held at attention, jaws set as they observed the visiting prince's antics. Suzaku alone refused to become enraptured by my cousin's performance from his post near the wine casks. Right gauntlet resting close to glinting sword hilt, his attention remained fixed on something far more pressing than a drunken prince, though he stood less than ten feet from Yusuke. Cold sapphire glared at Hiei with poorly-veiled malice, mouth twitching as his hand crept further down his belt.

Unless one paid close attention, they would never notice the porcelain thumb in that gauntlet.

Glancing back at our game, I noticed white queen forgotten at Hiei's left hand. Though believed by many to be the deciding factor in chess, the queen was always the first piece Hiei surrendered to his opponent. This had been the way he'd played since we were children: by allowing his opponents to take his queen early in the game, Hiei more often than not drew them into a false sense of security, allowing the sham to go on for several moves before cornering the opposing king with a rook or, his personal favorite, a pawn. This strategy worked on most of the nobles who lowered themselves enough to play with him.

It would not, however, work on me.

Keeping a watchful eye on Suzaku, I captured Hiei's knight with a pawn of my own, effectively trapping in his king. "Check-mate." Ruby flickered back to the chess board before rising to meet my gaze, irises clouded with crimson annoyance. "Would you mind seeing my cousin to his rooms, or at least back to his chair?" At his raised brow, I inclined my head towards the oni prince. "At this rate, Yusuke will bed that woman in front of everyone and if that happens, father will never hear the end of it."

Lips pressed in a thin line, Hiei cast a sour glare at our game before slipping from his seat, glancing at the crowd before disappearing amidst fluttering capes and bright skirts. I watched him weave across the dance floor with a sense of detachment, monitoring his progress by the occasional shock of black hair at someone's elbow or a flash of silver from the swords at his hips. To the dismay of many, Hiei had long since earned the right to bear arms in court – a privilege normally reserved for the king's personal guard. From the corner of my eye, I watched Suzaku watch Hiei, cheeks pink with drink and mouth twisted into something altogether unpleasant. Only when my companion touched Yusuke's arm did the knight's face slip into a more neutral expression, hand relaxing on his belt as the prince grinned down at the shorter man. I could not hear what Hiei whispered in Yusuke's ear, though his mirth was evident to all when he dipped his horned head back and laughed, allowing my companion to lead him back to father's table.

Only then did I move to reset the chess board, shifting each piece to its rightful place with practiced ease. When at last Hiei's forgotten queen lay in my hand, however, I paused, rolling the polished wood between calloused fingertips. In all of our years together, never once had he told me why he detested the piece so much, why he went out of his way not to include the queen in his stratagem. He claimed he would not allow a single piece to dictate the outcome of a game, yet his abhorrence for the queen accomplished just that:

Such prejudice was not part of the man I knew.

Before I could contemplate the matter further, the scent of lavender arrested my nose, preceding a satin voice. "I see you haven't changed, my lord."

A smile curled my lips even as a flowing skirt hem brushed my hose. Shizuru Kuwabara materialized in the corner of my eye, mouth contorted in a minuscule smirk. Eldest child of the late lord Kuwabara, Shizuru bore her station well: she exemplified no shame in wearing the lowliest of fine fabrics; rather, the human remained uncaring of her crushed velvet gown among so much silk, of the jewels blazing from so many young throats while only a simple brooch adorned her chest. Unlike many of my people, Shizuru refused to go out of her way to extol elegance, or to please anyone other than herself by appearance. Her attire could by no means be called fashionable, yet much like fresh fauna, her tastes never truly went out of style. A modest cream collar, an ivy bodice laced with matching thread; a long skirt cinched at the waist, the hem of which hinted at slim boot-tips, enchanting the eye of the viewer. Ever unassuming, a lady among ladies:

This was Shizuru Kuwabara.

Proper breeding took over and I stood before quite realizing it, inclining my heads towards her. "Lady Kuwabara."

She made a face at this, an honest reaction which filled me with mirth. "Please don't call me that – it makes me sound like Kazuma's wife."

A chuckle bubbled unheeded in my throat as I took her hand, pressing my lips to worn knuckles. "Lady Shizuru, then."

A sound which was not entirely lady-like spilled from her mouth and she frowned, hiding the motion with a careful shift of her head. "Prince Kurama, this is not the time or place for your games." She whispered, long hair tickling my nose.

"But you play them so well." I replied, lips moving across her skin, though one glance at the hall validated her stance. Suzaku kept watch over Hiei and Yusuke with an eagle's eye, though Yana and Kaito both stared at us openly – neither appeared pleased. One glimpse of the dragon's head peeking from my companion's sleeve and I straightened, extending a hand to Hiei's vacant chair. "Would you care for a game?"

"No, but I would join you for a moment." Only when I gave a short bow did she move, shifting skirts with expert precision to sit on the plush cushion. Returning to my own seat, I granted her my full attention, allowing the festivities to fade around us.

Reaching slender fingers up her sleeve, Shizuru admired the chess board while pulling several items from her purse: a long-stemmed pipe, gift from a foreign emissary long ago; the hollowed half of a walnut shell, encrusted with carved stars; a trimming stick and, finally, a sweet-smelling pouch. Still studying the pieces before her, she untied the pouch's rustic drawstring, plucking dark, hair-like fibers which smelled of the forest in deep spring between soft fingertips. Stuffing the matter into the pipe's tiny mouth, she took the trimming stick in her left hand and, ever so gently, touched the candle burning at my elbow. Withdrawing the smoldering wood, she allowed the embers to kiss the full mouth of her pipe, inhaling measured droughts of air until the tobacco caught. Finally, she shook the stick until smoke replaced brilliant orange, placing it to the side while taking a single, long draw.

I could not help but stare. True, both the pipe and tobacco were a luxury, yet Kuwabara would never think of denying his sister anything. Though he and I met only a few years before, I'd known Shizuru since she was a child. Before the late lord and lady passed, father allowed her to visit Schloss Wald often, where she spent the summers playing with Hiei and I. Once her uncle took over the estate, however, father revoked those privileges for reasons he would not state. Since Kuwabara's coming of age, I'd only seen Shizuru a handful of times, each reminding me she'd blossomed into a young woman while I was not looking. Most frowned upon a lady smoking, yet I could not picture her as anything other than herself–

After all, she was the first person to accept my friendship.

Motioning to a serving boy, I followed her line of sight only to spy Kuwabara finishing his dance with the merry lady, a blush marring his cheeks as he bowed to kiss her hand. The woman giggled and clasped his glove with small hands, corkscrew curls bouncing as she once again pulled him close for another jig. Trailing blue clashed with pink silk as they leapt across the floor, the lady urging Kuwabara on faster still. Inexperience ceased to matter amidst the maddening pace, free-flowing drink took away all care of rank and strict social dignities. The lady in pink led and Kuwabara followed obediently, yet none other than we paid them any heed.

Finally, after their third revolution around the room, Shizuru spoke, "Kazuma has become quite fond of you, my lord."

I nodded to the flaxen-haired boy who set a chalice before her, filling the silver cup three-quarters of the way full with strawberry cordial. The boy gave a short bow before disappearing back into the crowd, aged bottle clutched to his chest. Shizuru took another lengthy draw before continuing, sweet smoke curling from her lips. "I wish to thank you for taking him under your wing, my prince, for everything you've–"

"Shizuru." She froze under the sound of her name, taking her eyes from her brother for the first time to glance at me. "Please, don't. You may speak freely here."

Brows knit ever so slightly, she cast her gaze towards father's table, where Hiei still stood sentry over a drunken Yusuke. "But . . . what about–"

"Good wine is a terrible thing to waste." Brilliant cognac found me once again and I smiled, raising my glass while motioning for her to do the same. "Yes, a bit of wine is good for the stomach and makes the heart glad. However," I paused to grip the rim of my cup, swirling the liquid inside ever so gently as she raised her own chalice, dark brow raised in question. "Wine also has the tendency to loosen the tongue, heat the blood and addle the mind. These tendencies vary from person to person, as does one's tolerance for strong drink. Much of the occurrences during court are forgotten for those very reasons."

At last, she returned my smile, a sharp twist of her mouth not unlike a smirk. "Very well." Setting her pipe aside, she gripped the silver in both hands and raised the cup high. "To your health, Lord Kurama."

Silver butted against silver and she immediately took a sip, eyes closing as the bright liquid slid down her throat. I mimicked the action, though my lips remained sealed so as not to let a drop enter my mouth. Whereas no one would think twice of Shizuru's actions here as a lesser noble, I could not allow myself to falter. Eyeing the oni still at table, none of whom joined the Gandarans' dance, I noted how each kept their weapons close at hand, watching their hosts with care. True, our allies laughed and drank with everyone else, yet a definite unease remained in their bearing, causing them to scratch the bases of their horns and give whatever food entered their hands a tentative sniff. No, I could not lose myself to drink:

Far too much was at stake.

A few sips more and she brought the pipe back to her lips, taking a long drag with her cup still in easy reach. "As I mentioned, Kazuma admires you."

One look and I caught sight of pumpkin twirling amidst various dark heads, a torch surrounded by so much timber. I made no effort to hide a soft smile. "I've grown quite fond of him, myself."

"No, I mean it." Gray smoke billowing from shapely nostrils, Shizuru once again captured my attention with a single glance. Deeply-set garnet brimming with intelligence, sharp as a crystal dagger or glass shard; cold, yet possessing a certain softness if one knew where to look. Even as a boy, I'd loved her eyes. "Baby bro's always had it rough – as you know, our parents died when he was three." I nodded, remembering the questionable circumstances surrounding their deaths.

The Kuwabara Incident was one of the few instances father lost his smile.

"Kazuma barely remembers them, yet most of his life our uncle's reminded him how he'd never live up to father's hopes, how he could never honor our family name." Her lips twisted around the pipe, an expression which would appear ugly on any other woman. No, Shizuru's anger – her fierce protectiveness – deserved to be memorialized in a lasting way, such as a painting or ballad. Such was her beauty. "That wretch made him work the fields like a peasant, convinced him that was his _rightful place_ because he wasn't smart enough to rule." Though she spoke quietly, her fists shook against the table, threatened to snap the delicate pipe in two. "No matter how hard Kazuma worked, no matter how much he studied, it was never enough."

She took another drag from the pipe, holding the smoke in a bit too long before releasing the sweet vapor. Somehow, the action seemed to soothe her. "If not for your father's interference two years ago, he'd still be working the fields with the servants."

Lips pressed tightly together, I resisted the urge to touch her still-trembling fist. "Shizuru–"

"Which is why I wanted to thank you." A smile once again lit her face, a soft, honest expression which did her great justice. "You didn't have to accept Kazuma – you could have looked down on him like the other nobles, despite your father's choice – but you didn't." She turned to face me then, molten caramel piercing my innermost being. "I can't thank you enough for that."

I schooled my face into a regulated calm even as my cheeks warmed. Thankfully, the players were winding down the festive song and more than one couple drifted from the main floor, limbs heavy with exhaustion and drink. "I don't suppose you would care to dance?"

She laughed, a soft, bell-like sound. "No one ever asks me to dance in court, my lord."

"Then allow me to be the first." I smiled, offering her my hand. She hesitated, lips pursing as she glanced at the ever-diminishing crowd. Finally, she lowered her gaze and returned the gesture, fingers wrapping around the back of my hand as she stood.

Stepping onto the main floor, we were immediately given preeminence – the advantage of blood and rank. After signaling the chief musician, I gave two swift motions with my right hand. He nodded, offering quick instructions to his men as we glided to the center of the room. Several nobles appeared taken-aback, some offended, others still vaguely amused. Father never paused in his conversation with Hokushin, though I saw the devious smile curling his lips. Yusuke remained lost in his folly, nursing another pint while murmuring pointless statements to his companion. Hiei turned to watch the spectacle, arms crossed, brows raised.

Bowing in-time to her curtsy, I mouthed ' _Follow my lead._ '

She smirked, an impish twist of her lips as she silently replied, ' _Don't I always?_ '

As soon as we rose, I pulled her towards me, a rotary motion which left her shoulders pressed against my chest. "You are an extension of myself." I whispered into her hair, lips brushing her ear.

Her breath caught, prompting a smile. "I am the body, you are my arm."

Another shuddering breath and she nodded.

At that motion, the music began.

A flick of the wrist and Shizuru spun away, skirts living water cascading around her legs as she danced. Shoulders perfectly poised, I raised my chin in challenge, the image of arrogance as I opened both hands wide and stamped one foot. She raised an elegant brow yet kept a firm grip on her dress, hips and shoulders moving in-time with the drums, brass and stringed instruments as she watched me. Another solid stamp, fingers weaving the air as the flutes came to play and we took simultaneous steps, content with stalking one another. Cognac eyes laughing behind a proud façade, she studied every move, analyzing every pointed stomp, each flick of the wrist, noting with care how my ribs and not my hips preceded every step.

When the music reached the first crescendo, we raced to each other, hands finding their respective places even as our bodies became lost in a sea of green. We paced the hall in that fashion, following the ever-increasing tempo much like proud panthers. At times, I released my hold to turn her this way or that, even flinging her away without warning. Shizuru allowed me to do whatever I wished to her – a favor I gratefully returned. During those brief moments of freedom, she somehow found various ways to touch me: phantom fingertips glazed my chest, my stomach, my lips. Once, as we turned our backs toward one another, I caught her fingers running through my hair, deftly undoing the careful tucks and folds wrought by a servant. I barely suppressed a shudder:

Such was the power of her touch.

Red spilling over both shoulders, I pulled her in, conscious of the sweat sticking to my brow, trickling down her pale throat. One quick glance was the only warning Shizuru received before the horns' blast propelled me to action. Drums propelling each step, we spun several times in rapid succession, easily covering the distance to the middle of the dance floor. A final stamping of the foot and all the instruments sounded as one, signaling the last measure of the song. Left hand gripping her lower back, I pressed urgently into her spine, trying to convey what was about to happen. In one swift motion, I raised her knee to my hip and swept her remaining leg from under her, all the while sliding towards the floor. Several gasps sounded as Shizuru's back touched the ground and I landed atop her, one hand twined in her hair, the other gripping her thigh. No inappropriate amount of skin showed – her legs remained covered from hip to ankle – yet the air hummed with an energy normally reserved for one's private chambers. This was different from the folk dances and timeless jigs Gandarans were accustomed to–

None but Kaito and I had seen this new dance from the continent.

The music died and I lowered my head, hair cascading in thick sheets to offer the illusion of privacy. For a few precious moments, I stared pointedly at Shizuru's throat, catching my breath while both ears strained past the thundering of my heart. No hands eagerly applauded our performance; in fact, several voices sounded at once, hushed whispers I could clearly hear and none of which sounded pleased. I couldn't bring myself to look at her, not yet. Perspiration traced lazy lines down my cheeks as I watched her pulse throb, gnawing my inner cheek as I tried to predict her reaction. There had been no particular plan in asking her to dance, no ulterior motive. I'd wanted only to show her that she owed me no thanks, no words of gratitude. Their entire lives, she and Kuwabara had been made to feel as if they were less among their peers: unwanted, unworthy, unredeemable; forgeries of true nobility, black sheep amidst sparkling white–

No one deserved to be treated that way.

After a moment, I raised my head enough to search the crowd. I found Hiei first: arms still crossed, he rested his weight against the feasting table, lips twisted in a satisfied smirk. Yusuke wore a victorious grin, raising his cup in a toast to my – and I quote – 'iron-clad balls'. I don't think Kuwabara's mouth could have physically opened any further; partner long forgotten, his gaze roamed first to Shizuru, then I, pale cheeks tinged with embarrassment or fury – I could not tell. Finally, father appeared somewhat distracted, his smile never faltering as he listened to the ceaseless murmurs of the ancestral trees. Face set towards the main entrance, he did not care enough about the spectacle to offer the illusion of sight to his guests or to me. His lack of care eased the tension in my gut, somewhat–

If father wasn't angry, all would be well.

At last, I gathered the courage to look at her. Nostrils flared in silent exertion, blue veins pulsed in her temples, her throat, pumping blood eagerly to the rest of her body. Dark hair plastered to her face randomly by sweat, she stared at me with eyes of warm cinnamon. Her exhaustion permeated the air; both hands trembled, despite her grip on my shoulders, yet her eyes gleamed with laughter. Staring at her, I relived our dance a thousand times over, each step marked by a differing shade of brown or a soft sigh, an altogether sadistic smile lighting her lips–

She approved of my rashness.

Stifling a chuckle, I rose to one knee and offered her a hand. She gladly took it, irises deepening still as we rose to our feet.

However, when her lips parted, a great banging of wood against wood stole the words. "Your Excellency!"

Immediately, Hiei stood before us, his back a physical barrier between myself and the Great Hall's entrance. The old oaks hummed in their foreign tongue and suddenly instinct overrode all else. I pushed Shizuru behind me, right hand flying to my nape as I glared at the twin behemoths, both of which now stood open. The bailiff – a thick-set man in the twilight years of youth – stood between Asato and Yana, both of whom faced him with spears at the ready. Interrupting the king's court – especially when entertaining an allied power – was unheard of:

Their recognition is all that kept the man's head on his shoulders.

At father's raised hand, both knights stepped away, allowing the bailiff forward. Swallowing hard, the blonde man stepped forth, cropped hair belying his status as a commoner. Still, he bowed away from the glaring finery of Schloss Wald, focusing instead on his mud-caked boots. "P-pardon the intrusion, your Highness. If it were not a matter of upmost importance, I would never–"

"We are well aware." Father stood, smile still in place as he kept his imaginary gaze fixed on the bailiff. Only then did I realize the trees had ceased talking. "You may speak."

Sagging visibly, the man straightened, eyes trained nervously on father's chin. "Sire, two messengers are here to see you, a man and a woman."

Father raised a dark brow. "Is that all?"

Licking chapped lips, the bailiff shook his head. "No, your Grace. They claim to have been sent by their Queen – they bear the official seal of Hyouga."

A/N: Hello again! Wow, I can't tell you guys how much fun I'm having writing The Whipping Boy! I appreciate each and every one of you – thank you for returning for the third chapter! Also, big thanks for my beta reader Candid Ishida!

Cultural notes: while I tried to allow everyone to use their imaginations, court during the middle ages was all about extravagance: Acrobats, animal tamers, foreign troupes, chess matches as well as "lewd dancing" were par for the course entertainment in the fifteenth century, and don't even get me started on the cuisine. One source said it wasn't uncommon to have live birds inside of pies so that when the pastry was cut into, they would fly out. Also, there were ice sculptures, foreign dishes, etc. I tried my best to create an accurate fifteenth century British court here, with a little bit of elvish flare, of course. Also, all of the food, drink and herbs Yusuke listed were common in Scotland during this period.

Also, whiskey and ale were the alcoholic drinks of choice in Scotland in the 1400s. Wine existed, but it wasn't preferred by highland Scots. I didn't see the need to break that tradition for Yusuke. As for his and Hokushin's exchange outside Yomi's castle, the language they spoke was actually Scottish. Here's a list of terms/phrases used:

Nyaff – irritating person

I'll gie ye a skelpit lug – I'll give you a slap on the ear.

Keep the heid – Stay calm.

Haud yer wheesht – Be quiet.

Bawheid. You're a wee scunner – Stupid, you're a little nuisance.

Finally, the dance Kurama leads Shizuru in is the paso doble. Yes, the paso doble as we know it did not appear until the early 1600s, but the dance has its origins in the middle ages so I went with it. Hope you enjoyed that exchange.

So, representatives from Hyouga crashed the party! What business could they have with Yomi? What's with the tension between Tourin and Gandara and what does it mean for our protagonists? It's time for medieval politics! Until next time!


	5. Hunger

_Lust and greed are more_

 _gullible than innocence._

– _Mason Cooley_

Chapter 4: Hunger

 _Night came with her usual fanfare: winter bird sang; frost growing on the most resilient grass blades; bare trees bemoaning their nakedness. Everything in Gandara was cold, dead–_

 _I shivered, burrowing deeper into the blankets. A single iris bloomed near the balcony door for me, stubborn violet petals offering a sweet song. The fireplace popped at the other end of the room, proud flames long-since reduced to solemn embers:_

 _A week had come and gone, and still Hiei did not emerge from his chambers._

 _My heart twisted at the memory of his tears, angry ink marring his right arm. The dragon sought me in my dreams, red eyes gleaming and giving chase, jaws open in ravenous hunger–_

 _Each time I woke up screaming._

 _Still, he did not come._

 _The moon rose higher, uncaring that sleep eluded me. Soon enough, midnight struck, marked poignantly by a bell in town. I brought my knees to my chest, fingers moved beneath the bed clothes to form tents of varying shapes and sizes. Father would return from surveying the kingdom in two days – a courier brought the news at breakfast. Of course, the news excited me, yet for the first time I felt trepidation at his return. Surely, Kaito would tell him what I'd done – what I forced Hiei to do – and what transpired in the library:_

 _The thought of losing father's smile made me nauseous._

 _A sound at the door and I froze, eyes fixed on the iris in the corner. The trees continued to groan but I could not understand them – father said only kings could know their words._

 _My mind raced even as I tried to halt the progression, begging logic to override all else. It could be Hiei at the door. No, the step was too heavy–_

 _That of a grown man._

 _Still, I tried to convince myself even as the door opened; my back remained towards the hall joining my bedchamber to the sitting room. For some reason, my body refused to turn._

 _Surely, it was a member of the guard checking in; Asato, Yana, Kaito . . . even Suzaku, coming to set things aright, to say the dragon was a joke and disappeared days ago. The iris fell silent as the steps neared, only the shifting of cloth and the occasional creak of wood marking their movement._

 _My heart throbbed in my throat as the steps stopped near the head of the bed. For the briefest moment, I helplessly hoped to feel father's hand brush my hair._

 _Such thoughts shattered when the iris screamed._

 _I threw myself at the wall without hesitation, pressing my back against the wall. A well-made dagger lay where my head rested moments before, blade plunged deep into the pillows. My eyes quickly shifted from the weapon, staring up. The man in black before me was not father or Kaito nor anyone I knew: fabric covered every inch of his body save his eyes, which stared at me without feeling. A strong build, shrouded in shadow and dark clothing:_

 _This wasn't anyone I knew._

 _"Help!" I screamed, ducking away as he reached for me. He cursed as I threw random objects at him – books, paperweights, a container full of quill pens – retreating all the while. "Guard! Guard!"_

 _Only then did I remember the hour. Midnight marked the changing of the guard, a five minute window which left every corridor virtually unprotected:_

 _No one was here to hear me._

 _"Help!" Desperation raised my voice's pitch as I threw one last book, hitting the intruder in the face before turning for the hall. If I could escape my chambers, someone would come; my cries would carry in the corridors:_

 _Someone would come._

 _A piercing pain at my scalp and I yelped, fighting the hand latched onto my hair. With little effort, the intruder threw me back into the room, breath fleeing as my back hit the floor. Suddenly, mammoth fingers wrapped around my throat even as his knees cinched my hips, ensuring his own protection. I clawed at those hands – the only part of him I could reach – even as my lungs burned, eyes watering with effort._

 _The man simply applied more pressure, fully blocking my windpipe while watching me with those cold, dead eyes. Flesh and blood accumulated beneath my fingernails as I fought, yet he seemed not to notice:_

 _Pain was of no consequence to him._

 _"Sleep, my prince." He said, deep voice soft, almost caring. "This will be much easier if you sleep."_

 _A strangled cry left my mouth as he squeezed, fear and anger running side-by-side. This was one of father's citizens – his title for me attested as much. His tone did not match the ever-tightening grip around my throat, the bottomless eyes filling my vision. One of my own people was killing me and I could do nothing to stop it–_

 _The thought of dying terrified me more than anything else._

 _Then, just as black began to color my world, the man stiffened and a wet sound filled the air. He made to turn but the sound repeated itself in rapid succession, reverberating through the room much like a sponge repeatedly relieved of water._

 _Finally, the man's grip loosened, a gurgle spilling from his lips as he fell atop me. I tried to take a breath but his weight threatened to crush me and fear overrode all else._

 _All at once, his bulk disappeared and I sucked in a greedy gasp, eyes closing at the pain engulfing my lungs. My throat ached – each breath physically hurt – and my mind demanded I rise. Surely, the man would come at any moment, ready to finish his work, yet no strength remained in my body. I couldn't move, I couldn't think. I–_

 _"Kurama?"_

 _My eyes shot open at the downy voice and my body moved on its own, setting me upright. Hiei knelt at my side, eyes wide as he stared openly at the bruises marring my neck. He wore the same black as always but this was a comforting black – I could feel the wool between my fingertips. Specks of red dotted his face; hot blood covered his hands, one of which held a dripping blade:_

 _The same dagger from before._

 _"Don't look." He hissed as my head turned but I didn't listen. The intruder lay before the balcony entrance, bathed in cold moonlight. His clothes now bore several slits in the back – too many to count – his scalp sported multiple puncture wounds, each leaking red. Steely eyes stared back at me, though I saw nothing which proclaimed he retained breath; both hands remained poised in their final action, curled to the shape of my throat–_

 _Bile rose unbidden and I became sick all over Hiei's boots._

 _To his credit, he did not recoil from the action, showed no disgust. Throat burning with the last traces of supper, my breath hitched and I clung to him, sobbing into his shoulder. Hiei stiffened at the touch and though he offered no words of comfort, he did not push me away._

 _Soon enough, the fresh guard – Yana – heard my keening and rushed in, weapon in hand. What he saw stopped him in his tracks: two boys crouched in a pile of vomit, one weeping uncontrollably, the other covered in blood. Upon seeing the corpse, horror lit his eyes and he leapt into action, stepping closer to us. "Your Highness, are you alright?"_

 _When he was within two paces, Hiei tightened his grip on the dagger before lifting his arm, blade pointed at Yana. A second later, his hand found mine, gripping with an intensity only young boys possess. I saw him bare his teeth in a snarl through water-logged vision, minuscule muscles tense, ready to fight._

 _The knight stopped, lips pressed together in a grim line, though he did not raise his weapon in-turn. "Lord Kurama, answer me."_

 _"Yes." I barely recognized my own voice, a fragile, wheezing thing. Hiei's cloak slipped between my fingers as he shifted, placing himself directly between Yana and I. He never relinquished his hold on my hand. "Hiei came."_

 _Both started at this, though Hiei never once lowered his blade. Fresh tears stung my eyes, tortured my throat but Yana had to know. "I screamed and no one came; I was afraid he'd kill me . . ." I shuddered, struggling to meet the knight's gaze. "But Hiei came."_

 _Yana swallowed, looking from Hiei's bared arm to my throat before settling on the dead man behind us. The knight made to move forward but he growled, the sound vibrating through his back into my chest._

 _The knight's eyes darkened with understanding and he straightened, visibly loosening his grip on his sword. "Lord Kurama must be examined: if he is hurt, we must care for him, protect him." Finally, he allowed his hand to fall to his side, pale against his leather armor. "That is our duty to the crown prince."_

 _It took a moment for me to realize he was speaking to Hiei. Still, my companion appeared deaf to his words; shoulders bunched, feet pulled into a low crouch, ready to spring at any moment. Another growl sounded, lower than the last, barely audible in my ears._

 _Yana, no doubt, heard the warning. "He is our treasure." He pressed, face and voice calm despite the tension radiating from his body. "We will do anything to keep him safe."_

 _Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Hiei lowered the blade, growl dying in his throat._

 _Yana immediately took me to the infirmary, though my companion naturally accompanied us; he never once let go of my hand. Hiei kept vigil by my bed that night: crouched against the wall, dagger at the ready, though to this day I do not know why they allowed him to keep the weapon._

 _Father came home the next day, spurned by news the flowers gave of the assassination attempt. His affection for me knew no bounds, though he surprised me by praising Hiei as well. Father gifted him with two silver-handled swords – treasures of our kingdom, my grandfather's blades – and ordered he be taught to wield them._

 _Several weeks passed before Hiei allowed me to sleep alone again._

 _Hyouga_.

A land trapped in eternal winter, the nucleus of my boyhood fantasies.

Hyouga.

Astute matriarchy of the north, ally to both Gandara and Tourin.

Finally, they'd come out of hiding.

Dim echoes of Yusuke's party reached my ears as the door closed, effectively isolating the cozy chamber from the rest of court. Father took his place at the round oak table, horns of the gold-coated chair stretching above the heads of all present. Yusuke sat to his left, still sluggish with drink yet sobering by the second; I settled to his right, plush cushions sighing as we both rested our full weight against them. Hokushin stood at my cousin's shoulder, the very image of calm despite the staff held resolutely in one hand. Finally, Hiei leaned against the breathing wall at my back, body to moving with the trees, arms crossed loosely over his chest. The air hummed with warmth; stifling, despite the moss clinging to select pieces of bark. All eyes remained set on our guests:

Father's smile grew harder with each whisper of wood.

The woman kept her eyes fixed on our King, lips an impenetrable line. Her face reminded me inescapably of an ice sculpture, each contour firm and unrelenting beneath porcelain skin. Robes of purest blue hugged her petite frame, fine silk accenting aquamarine hair which spilled from high atop her head, thick locks held in place by an ornate clip embellished with diamonds. Petite even for a woman, she was only an inch or so taller than Hiei and appeared harmless, hands clasped against her stomach. A delicate face; rose-petal irises flickered to each of us in turn, though each thought slid carefully beneath their depths.

Dark wings graced the shoulders of the man behind her; monstrous, feathered things nearly twice the size of his body. Appendages tucked close to a slender torso, he loomed over all present – the crest of father's head reached only his shoulder. Deceptively thin arms filled a black tunic lined with fox fur, garment split at the front to reveal a pale chest; lacquered muscle tight, impenetrable, yet shifting with each breath. Long legs bled from beneath that tunic, midnight wool flowing seamlessly into knee-length boots which made no sound when he walked. Slim hands encased in his pockets, he observed all with eyes of slate, ghostly skin made otherworldly by raven hair creeping down his calves. A metal mask covered the bottom portion of his face, each side allotted several slits. Finally, twin razor scars crowned the leather strip at his throat, both positioned just over the larynx.

Though this could have been my imagination, those eyes seemed to spark whenever they landed upon me.

After several moments passed, father's warm voice filled the chamber. "Would you care for refreshment? Surely, you must be exhausted from your journey."

"No. Thank you." Her voice was surprisingly soft, pleasantries powdered snow falling from her lips. Only then did I perceive the state of her companion's clothes. Each garment clung to his skin with abandon, much like a blanket stuck to a frothing horse after hours of running. However, the man showed no signs of fatigue, and the woman did not have a single hair out of place. "This is an urgent matter, Lord Yomi."

"So it seems." Father replied coolly, eloquent fingers running across the thick parchment set with Hyouga's royal seal – a letter he made no move to open. Brows furrowing ever so slightly at a moan of bark, he turned to the winged man, contemplating whatever the trees said. Fortified gray stared resolutely at father's chin, refusing to meet the king's sightless gaze – a sure sign of good breeding.

Finally, father shifted his attention back to the woman, who possessed every bearing of nobility. "Tell us: who are you and what has brought you so far from home?"

The woman immediately dipped into a shallow curtsy, limbs moving with effortless grace. Her companion dropped to one knee, silken hair pooling about his feet. He maintained this stance after she rose; his eyes never left her, though his face remained tilted downward.

"Lord Yomi."

Tension at my back and the temperature rose once again. Yusuke's eyes widened, as taken aback as I at her simplistic term for a king; Hokushin watched on in silence, face decidedly blank. "I am Rui, sister of Queen Hina – Master of Ice, Lady of the North." Sweat formed at my brow, ran beneath my clothes in small streams; a soft sound not unlike a hiss slithered into one ear. Our guest gave no inclination of these changes, delicate fingers motioning to the still-kneeling man. "This is Karasu."

He did not react to his name on her tongue, watching the tiny hand return to the safe folds of her robes. Karasu. Spoken so casually, as though a simple introduction were enough to explain his presence. The leather hugging his neck; black wings held abnormally still at either shoulder, bent for flight yet held in place by her word:

His very name sounded like a curse.

"In the name of the Queen, we come seeking your aide."

Rui's crystalline voice garnered my attention immediately. Both bowed their heads towards father, radiating a surprising air of humility. Yusuke and I glanced at one another across the table, his cheeks still tinged with drink. Hokushin kept his eyes focused on Rui, staff held in a deceptively lax grip; I could not see Hiei to gauge his reaction.

Father, as always, betrayed nothing. Smile relaxing to almost a straight line, he tilted his head as if studying the two, dark hair slipping over either shoulder. "How can we help her Majesty? Surely, you have other allies who can–"

"Our princess is missing."

Suddenly, all thought of heat fell away and damp cool overtook the chamber. Yusuke expelled a slow breath from puffed cheeks whereas Hokushin's gaze sharpened further, traveling between his prince and the noblewoman. Father raised a single brow and his fingers ceased tracing the parchment, though otherwise he remained impassive to the news.

I did my best to follow his example, crossing one leg over the other before addressing our guests for the first time. "What motives can you offer for her disappearance?"

A soft chuckle. "Details are difficult to come by, Lord Kurama." No derision tainted her voice, though her eyes hardened all the same. Rui's hands shifted beneath the great sleeves of her robes, infantile serpents seeking to strangle one another. Her anxiety stung my nose, none of which registered on her face:

Truly, the ice maidens' reputation preceded them.

"Much like Gandara, Hyouga has few allies and many enemies." She began, lips twisting, carefully contemplating every word. "Both countries harbor terrible power, knowledge which sets us apart from the rest of the world." Yusuke appeared ready to object yet one look from Hokushin stilled his tongue. Rui noticed this as well. "I mean no offense, Lord Yusuke. For centuries, Tourin has rested upon its own strength: a strength our world readily accepts and can be proudly proclaimed without shame. Your country is great and we are appreciative of your friendship."

Yusuke's nose wrinkled as he tasted her words on his tongue. Finally, he set his chin in one hand, placated for the time being.

"However," Rui continued, glancing between father and myself. "Elves have always held the their source of power close to the chest: it is how your people won the Dragon's War long ago, as well as how your country can stand alone if need be, as in the last war with Ysbryd."

Another low hiss, though father remained stoic under the reminder of his blindness.

"Hyouga also has her secrets which allow us independence, secrets traditionally passed from mother to daughter." At last, Rui's hands gave up the ghost and she shifted her gaze to father, eyes fixed carefully on his cheekbones. "Princess Yukina is the recipient of those treasures – a worthy vessel taught since birth by Queen Hina." A mirthless smirk contorted her lips and she stared at some point over my shoulder. "As you can imagine, her disappearance has upset the entire country."

I crossed my arms and settled further into the chair, allowing the wood to stiffen my back into an iron rod. "So, you believe whomever is responsible for her disappearance desires Hyouga's secrets?"

"Yes." Firmness reclaimed her mouth, setting pale lips once again into a thin line and she dared meet my gaze. "Our princess is everything to us – we will reclaim her at any cost."

"So, they came all the way here to ask for King Yomi's help?"

Blessed twilight peeked around various tree trunks, long fingers slipping through natural slits in the castle walls. Much like that morning, we traipsed through the corridors in pairs – Yusuke and I leading with Hiei and Kuwabara close behind – though unlike before, the air remained decidedly dismal, strained–

Hiei had not spoken once since the meeting.

"I don't get it." Kuwabara continued, voice harsh in the soft light. Glancing over one shoulder, I noted his furrowed brow, how he did not quite know what to do with his hands. Ancient branches bearing sconces dipped elegantly away from him, careful of his best blue suit. For once, however, he did not notice their attentions. "If all they wanted was our help, couldn't they have just sent a courier? Why would they send a member of the royal family?"

The same questions spurred my thoughts as well, though I held my peace.

Kuwabara frowned, roundlet tilting ever so slightly as he glanced down at Hiei. "What do you think?"

"I think it's all a load of crap." Yusuke scoffed, weaving thick fingers together to cup the back of his head. Stubborn shells and bits of brass cackled against his horns as he lengthened his stride, each trophy adding to the conundrum of his hair.

Raising a single brow, I glanced at my cousin. Smile abandoned alongside his club in his private chambers, Yusuke's eyes remained closed as we neared our destination, relying on childhood memories to deliver him safely. Hints of a breeze slid through the walls to whisper against the navy plaid, further parting the folds at his bare chest. If he was conscious of his state of undress, he hid it well.

I nodded to yet another guard as we passed a junction, each step carrying us deeper into the living fortress. One look proved he'd garnered both of our companions' attention, though it was I who spoke. "Would you care to elaborate?"

Another snort as we turned into an all-too familiar corridor. A stout man stood at the last door to the right, spear held at attention, leather armor gleaming in the torchlight. The guard acknowledged both Yusuke and I with a deep bow, though he made no move to leave until he saw Hiei at my back.

Once he disappeared around the corner, I pushed my chamber door open, ushering Yusuke and Kuwabara inside. As always, Hiei refused to enter before me. Rather, he stood in the threshold even after we crowded into the sitting room, regarding the empty hall with suspicion. Before I could question his hesitation, however, he slipped inside and shut the door.

Yusuke's lips refused to budge even after I set the fireplace ablaze and we settled in: he occupying the couch along the far wall, Kuwabara and I taking the room's two chairs. Hiei maintained his post by the door as was his habit, red silk settling silently against an ivy tapestry – a rose boasting twin silver thorns.

Braids spilling over his shoulders and into his lap, Yusuke shifted against the cushioned wood before propping one foot atop the low table, hands still clasped resolutely behind his head. Both eyes were open now, though he did not appear to truly see anything before him. Kuwabara eyed him with some apprehension, obviously wanting to press further but not quite daring to.

Finally, Yusuke brought both palms down to grip his knees, plaid parting further as he leaned forward. "If Hyouga's so desperate, why did they come to Gandara instead of Tourin?"

Kuwabara blinked, clearly taken aback by my cousin's anger. "W-what do you mean your–" One look and he swallowed, forcing the words to rearrange themselves on his tongue. "Yusuke? Gandara and Hyouga are allies, right?"

"Uh, hello? We're allies too – Tourin signed a treaty with Hyouga fifty years ago." One finger keeping time on his knee, Yusuke rose to his full height, lips parted in a sneer. "In fact, we've been allies with them _longer_ than Gandara! So why would they come to the elves before us?"

Kuwabara did well in not wilting under Yusuke's anger, trying instead for a logical debate. "Maybe they _did_ go to Tourin and only came here after seeing you weren't in Tourin."

"No." He shook his head. "Hokushin would have known if something like that happened. Besides, the old man's home, so–" Here, indignation gave way to something else entirely and Yusuke's eyes darkened to deep maple. Jaw set, he reclined once again against the couch, crossing his ankles. "Point is, if they're really so desperate, they would've stopped in Tourin first."

Brow furrowed, Kuwabara leaned forward, never taking his eyes from Yusuke. "Why's that?"

"Because Tourin lies north of Gandara." A cutting baritone and Hiei finally broke his silence. Every eye turned towards him but he kept his attention on the door, arms crossed loosely over his chest. The tips of his foremost fingers kissed the pommels of either blade, though such a thing would go unnoticed by the untrained eye. "It's simple geography."

"Hiei is right." I offered, quick to distract the knight from the thinly-veiled insult. "To get here from Hyouga, one would have to cross Tourin's borders at some point, even if traveling by sea." Reaching out, I rescued a scroll from Yusuke's muddy shoes. The parchment creaked, unfurling to reveal a map of Gandara and the surrounding kingdoms. "As you know, Gandara borders Ysbryd to the west and Tourin to the north." Kuwabara nodded as I pointed out both countries, following my finger with surprising studiousness. "The Lonely Kingdom – Alaric – lies west of Ysbryd, though it shares borders with none but the sea."

Here he stopped me, tracing the rough boot which constituted Alaric. "Why is it called 'The Lonely Kingdom'?"

"Because Alaric has no allies to speak of." I traced a line from the island kingdom to Tourin, tapping the parchment gently. "The only country which keeps regular contact with their king is Tourin, though this is due more to kinship ties than anything else."

Yusuke shrugged at Kuwabara's questioning glance. "Some of our people sailed there centuries ago."

"Yes, and never left." My finger moved steadily upwards, garnering the human's attention. "Hyouga lies here, several leagues northwest of both countries." Indeed, Hyouga rested at the uppermost portion of the parchment, an afterthought of the mapmaker's. Her rounded borders shone purple, her landscape a soft blue – truly an ice maiden's kingdom. "As you can see, anyone from Hyouga would undoubtedly have to cross Tourin's borders to reach us. Either that or come by way of Ysbryd–"

"And we _know_ that's not happening!"

I couldn't help but agree with Yusuke. The fact there was no love lost between Ysbryd and Hyouga was no secret, and to risk faring Alaric's waters– "No, they would have to come through Tourin."

Uncertainty twisted Kuwabara's lips as he stared at the countries dotting the map, going from Hyouga to Tourin to Gandara. "Is it really that big of a deal they _didn't_ stop in Tourin?"

Yusuke shrugged. "Personally? I could care less." He rolled his shoulders, bringing both hands behind his head once again and closing his eyes. "But the fact they didn't visit the old man is an insult to my people and I have a _big_ problem with that." A flicker of brown and he opened one eye to stare at Kuwabara. "Besides, the timing's really bugging me."

"The timing?"

I leaned forward. "You don't think this is a coincidence."

A snort. "C'mon fox boy, you're thinking the same thing." He glared down at the map. "First time we're together in twenty years _just happens_ to be the day Gandara gets a royal request from Hyouga?" Both eyes opened and he pegged me with a glare. " _Who we're both allies with_? I'm not buying it."

Rui's behavior from earlier came readily to mind and I eased back, bringing a contemplative hand to my lips. "Do you believe her aim was to insult Tourin openly or to request the aide of both our countries at the same time?"

Another shrug. "Dunno – you're way better at these games than I am."

I settled further into the chair, fingers laced beneath my chin. From a political standpoint, the former seemed unlikely – why would Hyouga wish to anger an ally known for its military might? On the other hand, King Raizen's condition was well-known among our allies, despite Hokushin's great care. Truthfully, Yusuke had ruled his country in some capacity since his eighth year, though Hokushin would officially maintain regency for another three winters. Contrary to centuries of tradition, King Raizen remained ruler in name only:

Insanity knew no respect for station. "I believe it is the latter."

Yusuke's mouth remained set in a tight frown but he raised one brow, waiting for me to continue. Sorting through each thought carefully, I brushed my lips against scarred knuckles, contemplating. "Given the nature of the request, you and Hokushin are the only Tourites capable of helping Hyouga. Thus, it stands to reason they would wish to speak to you both directly as soon as possible."

"Yeah, I get that." A click of his heels and Yusuke sprang upright, brows furrowed. "But how did they know we'd be _here_?"

"That I cannot answer." I sighed, glancing at Hiei, who continued to watch the door. "Perhaps there is an ulterior motive in their coming to Gandara, though what that motive might be I could not guess."

Ever since we were children, I'd held Hiei's opinion in high esteem. Often, when faced with seemingly impossible choices or confronted with the pressures of courtly relations, I would seek my companion's counsel. There were no limitations to such talks between us. Though he did not always possess an answer to my dilemmas, Hiei always offered a listening ear and his honest opinion – more than could be said for many in father's castle.

He knew the last was directed at him – I could tell by the tension seeping into his shoulders – though he refused to look at me, resolutely resigned to silence.

Odd.

Kuwabara shifted at my side, spinning the roundlet between nimble fingers. "So, what did the lady look like? I couldn't see her through the crowd."

"Like any other ice maiden." Yusuke shrugged, digging into one ear with his pinkie. "Blue hair, red eyes, _really_ short – you know, the works."

"An approximation," I countered. "Though not inaccurate." A smile crept into place at Kuwabara's bewildered look. "Koorime – or ice maidens, as they are more commonly known – are unique in that they can reproduce asexually."

His eyes widened further. "You mean . . . they can have kids by themselves?"

"Yes, but only girls." I held up a finger, pointing back to the map. "This trait stems from the very first koorime – Hyouga's ancestral mother. Legend has it she founded the kingdom for her family, a place where she and her daughters could live in peace. Because of this, all women of Hyouga share an astounding likeness." Kuwabara nodded slowly, digesting every word. "This is also why Hyouga's social structure is that of a matriarchy – it is not a place for men."

He licked dry lips, glancing between Yusuke and I. "Then why did she have that guy with her–"

"Just because they can reproduce alone doesn't mean they won't share their beds."

One sharp remark and Hiei shattered his silence yet again. He maintained his stance against the wall though now he glared at the door, muscles taut, jaw set.

Yusuke raised a brow. "You mean they like a little hanky-panky?"

An indignant squawk from Kuwabara, who's complexion suddenly darkened to deep pomegranate.

Hiei snorted, settling more of his weight upon his shoulders. "All creatures enjoy carnal pleasures – why should the koorime be any different?"

"But . . . Kurama said Hyouga was built for women–"

"By a withered hag nearly a millenia ago." A shifting of red and Hiei crossed his ankles, granting Kuwabara a cursory glance. "No woman in her right mind would choose to remain celibate her entire life. Surely even _you_ realize that."

I leaned forward, garnering both men's attention before another squabble ensued. "Where do they acquire the men? From my understanding, koorime never leave Hyouga – even their trading partners must come to them."

Hiei regarded me cooly, head tilting back ever so slightly. "You saw one here, did you not?"

"Aw, c'mon hot pants!" Yusuke chirped, grinning at his grimace. My cousin gifted us both with nicknames shortly after our first summer together and though the signatures were well-earned, Hiei absolutely loathed his. "You've already told us this much – no reason to be coy now."

Ruby eyes narrowed to slits, Hiei gave Yusuke his most putrid glare. For a moment, I feared he really would leave off speaking until finally he sighed, settling comfortably against the wall once more. "At first, they were victims of the sea: shipwrecked sailors, fishermen set adrift, or very unlucky pirates. Each became trapped on the island and considered it a blessing to find some sort of civilization there – a country occupied only by women." Another snort. "Fools thought they could force the koorime to bend to their will."

Yusuke cupped his cheek in his hand, leaning against one knee. "Take it that didn't happen?"

Hiei did not justify that with an answer. Instead, he allowed his gaze to roam back to the door. "Only women are considered citizens of Hyouga – it's been that way since the beginning."

"Wait a minute!" The roundlet ceased turning and Kuwabara pegged him with an accusing look. "You said ice maidens can have kids by themselves – you didn't say they couldn't have 'em with men too!"

Another raised brow. "Congratulations, you recognize simple sentence structure."

"Don't give me that crap!" Kuwabara growled, half-rising from his seat. "What if an ice maiden has a boy? What happens to the _boys_?"

An inscrutable expression darkened Hiei's face and he glanced at me, nodding. "There, fox, is the answer to your question."

We learned quite a bit about the Ice Kingdom that night, mainly the positioning of men in a land where they were never meant to belong.

Interesting facts such as the second Queen outlawing marriage, opting instead for a more advantageous role for the men under her rule – that of bed slaves:

Concubines.

Of course, the Queen knew eventually emissaries from other kingdoms would visit, seeking peaceful ties for trade, if nothing else. Thus, she added to the men's shame by enforcing three laws, each of which ensured they would not be mistaken for a foreign official: the first, all natural-born men of Hyouga must wear a collar, beginning when they could hold their heads upright alone; the second, every boy must have his vocal chords removed by his fifth year – an instrument of pleasure had no need to speak, after all. The third:

All concubines must wear black at all times.

I pondered these things long after Hiei left, seeing Kuwabara back to his rooms upon my request. The night air kissed my hands as I leaned against the balcony in my bedchamber, frowning at the purple iris. The flower had grown quite a bit since my boyhood, even spreading its seed so others shared the pot as well. Even now, the iris coaxed me with a simple song, mimicking the music below, yet I would not be distracted so easily.

Once again, the man from earlier crossed my mind: pale skin which appeared unearthly due to his attire, the unforgiving leather clutching his throat, two needle-thin scars gracing his larynx. Without a doubt, I knew–

Karasu was a concubine.

Surprisingly, this knowledge did not help ease my trepidation regarding him. True, I now understood his attentions toward his mistress – for Rui was indeed his mistress – yet something about Karasu set me on-edge: one look from those slate eyes and an invisible noose tightened around my neck, threatening to eat my soul. Just the thought of his cold, dead eyes sent my heart racing; every instinct told me to run, reducing me to a frightened child–

It was maddening.

"You kicking me out, too?"

I smiled at the lighthearted tone, turning. Hair ornaments clacking together, Yusuke sauntered into the room, glancing about without much interest. He frowned, though I couldn't blame him. Truly, nothing stood out in my room: a simple bed draped in linens; an overcrowded desk brimming with half-used parchment, detailed maps, and well-worn writing utensils; tapestries and rugs covered everything not made of wood, thus much of the floor and walls. The only items of note were various potted plants and leather-bound volumes lining natural crevices in the ancient tree trunks, though these failed to interest him even as a child–

Yusuke had never been an avid reader.

"I suggested we adjourn for the night because of Kuwabara's obvious exhaustion." Our human companion successfully stifled three yawns before a fourth spilled out with much gusto, causing him needless embarrassment.

"Yeah?" He settled with his back against the balcony's wooden arc, crossing his arms. "And what about hot pants?"

"Yusuke, you know just as well as I how treacherous court can be."

He remained silent at this, turning to peer out at the gardens below. Yes, of course he knew. More than one 'accident' had occurred in court during our lifetimes: a drunken nobleman found dead after falling down a flight of stairs; women never waking from their slumber after announcing a pregnancy; young lords disappearing into the night just before inheriting their father's estates–

Court was no place for a human to transverse alone.

"Hiei'll keep him safe, you know."

I smiled, leaning into the breeze. "Yes, I know."

We allowed a few moments to pass in companionable silence, content with simply observing. Father had long since returned and the banquet was in full swing, spilling from the great hall to the gardens. Oni, elves and humans alike drank, ate and sang, dancing in turns and laughing at each others' impaired attempts. Flowers having long bid the world goodnight, the revelers had the place to themselves, though each foot remained careful of the sheathed buds.

Chin resting on his arms, Yusuke appeared content with watching his people all night.

However, I knew we did not have that luxury. "How is King Raizen?"

The inquiry was soft, yet he looked as if I'd struck him. Yusuke recovered quickly, returning his gaze to the party. "Like I said earlier, same-old, same-old."

I turned my back to the scene, cementing him in place with one look. "Yusuke."

"What? He's the same he's always been: ornery, arrogant, stubborn as a–"

"You know that's not what I meant."

He froze before closing his eyes, expelling a careful breath. "Yeah . . . yeah, I know."

Another breeze came and I waited, allowing him all the time he needed to gather his thoughts. Yusuke remained slouched for several minutes, refusing to move even when a few braids tangled in his horns. Somehow, he appeared surprisingly vulnerable – silhouetted in the moonlight, shut off from the world by his closed lids.

When finally he allowed his eyes to open, he still refused to look at me. "He's getting worse, Kurama."

The admission was barely above a whisper, yet more than I hoped to hear. "How so?"

Yusuke swallowed, flinching away from the soft inquiry, the arms crossed harmlessly at my chest. One thing my cousin refused to accept was pity – he'd been this way since we were children. Hiding behind smart remarks and elusive grins, Yusuke always kept his true thoughts and feelings hidden, safe from the roving eyes of the public:

Such was the duty of a crown prince.

A loud peal of laughter below and his hand moved, diving into the plaid's folds. After a moment of searching, the appendage reemerged, stout leather bag in tow. Yusuke then pulled a bent-necked pipe from the bag, fingers diving back to stuff the clay mouth with tobacco. Sticking the wooden neck securely between his lips, he reached into the plaid once more for a stone and sheathed knife. Finally, he struck the blade against the flint rock until sparks hit the thirsty grass, inhaling deeply before exhaling purple smoke.

Yusuke repeated the last action several times, allowing the taste of home to comfort him before continuing. "None of the old tricks are working: no matter how many willing women Hokushin finds, it's not enough. The old man can have twenty a night – thirty, even – but it's not enough . . . it's never enough." Another careful drag, embers reflecting individual facets of tumultuous mahogany. "Sure, the Hunger'll be sated for maybe an hour, two tops; then the whole thing starts again."

The Hunger – secret shame of the oni. Rooted in instinct, the disease remained dormant in the blood until the spring of adolescence, sinking its talons into the hearts and minds of men until they came of age. Irresistible urges, an insatiable appetite for the opposite sex–

It was the reason many oni mated by their fifteenth summer.

Thankfully, my uncle found his mate early in life. A beauty with black hair and honey eyes, various officials still boasted of her sharp mind and brash tongue, her fearlessness against his renowned temper. According to father, King Raizen's love for Queen Atsuko knew no bounds: no matter the request, she needed only ask and he would move heaven and earth for her–

Which made her death all the more difficult.

Much like myself, Yusuke never met his mother. Shortly after giving birth to Tourin's first prince, she passed in her husband's arms – King Raizen's screams filled the halls for days. So poignant was his grief that he gave no thought to remarrying, even after the Hunger began to stir once again.

Like any disease, if caught early and properly treated, the oni curse did not debilitate; rather, it faded to the normal desires experienced by men. However, if left to fester, the Hunger latched onto the mind, overriding all else and bending the libido to its will:

By the time my uncle realized the need to find another Queen, it was too late.

I frowned at another outburst below, followed by the tinkling of bells. "Does he still refuse food and drink?"

An affirmative grunt and Yusuke expelled smoke from flared nostrils. "He'll take a bit after the edge wears off, though that window's getting smaller and smaller." A sad smile, one which did not fit quite right on his lips. "Old guy's still strong as an ox but he's all muscle and bone, now."

I nodded, remembering the impressive figure of the oni king from childhood: wild white hair kissing both heels, free from braids allying him to any specific clan; a strong jaw which rose half a head above father, an easy smile; arms and legs bigger than my entire body, capable of ripping a horse in two or hugging a three year old boy. Every memory of King Raizen warmed my heart, even the days when he threw food trays against the wall in fits of rage, eyes feral and unseeing.

"I take it you've heard the rumors?"

He snorted, rising to his full height. "Why do you think I'm here?" Scowling, he dumped the ashes from his pipe before glaring up at me. "Let's get one thing straight: I don't know what you've been told but my dad's innocent."

Of course Yusuke would see through the ruse of father's invitation. I sighed, straightening as well. "Then you know several women along our shared borders have disappeared–"

"And I'm telling you, he didn't do it!" He stepped forward, face mere inches from mine.

A slight furrowing of the brow and my arms dropped, though I stood my ground. Brass horns heralded another song, though the merriment went unnoticed by my cousin: fists clenched, lips parted in a snarl–

Eyes begging me to accept his challenge.

"What proof do you have, Yusuke?" I demanded, careful in keeping my voice level, objective. "While I may believe you, my opinion holds no sway in the matter: what can proof can you offer my father concerning the well-being of his people?"

Yusuke retreated a step, forcibly shifting his anger to steely resolve while crossing his arms. "I've been living among the lowland clans for the past three summers – the old man's been at his castle with Hokushin the whole time. Besides," He shifted his weight, cocking his head. "Even if he could think clearly long enough to hunt women, why would he go after _yours_? Tourin's full of girls who're more than willing to serve their king." A sudden grin, one which showcased fang. "And no offense fox boy, but your women are butt-ugly compared to ours."

I couldn't help but smile at the brazen statement; such was Yusuke's charm. "You seemed to have no issue with the dancers earlier."

"'course not – their knockers were huge!"

A companionable silence fell then and Yusuke refilled his pipe, calm overtaking his features as he lit the tobacco and inhaled deeply. The party below having long since reached a stage only the truly drunk could enjoy, most were in a state of disarray, yet he watched the merry-makers all the same. I settled back against the balcony's rim, staring at the ever-swaying irises.

The disappearances of women in Gandara's folds had troubled father for months. Although no one said as much, most believed them to be directly linked with Tourin's open-secret: the Hunger of a crazed King. Obviously, father did not want to believe his brother capable of such atrocities, yet the Hunger knew no boundaries.

There was no doubt in my mind Yusuke spoke the truth – his love for Tourin demanded no less – yet still my mind hearkened back to our earlier meeting. A missing princess, Gandaran women spirited away in the night; three allies brought together by the two events, none of whom had been in regular contact for quite some time–

Something about this did not sit right, yet I could not find the piece linking everything together.

"You know I just had a birthday."

Yusuke's voice stilled the irises' dance. Head tilted back, he watched as smoke rose to mingle with subtle starlight, expression inscrutable. The wind once again came to play with his hair, bringing along the aroma of flowers. Gentle wisps of air contorted the vapors into strange shapes, the scents of our respective homes mixing to form a unique, almost sickly sweet fragrance. I could not tell if Yusuke noticed these things – such was the strength of the stars' spell – so I gave an acknowledging hum, waiting for him to begin again.

Taking the pipe between knowing fingers, he inhaled once more before pulling at the clay bowl, smoke pouring from parted lips. Staring at the engravings etched into the bowl, he licked at the purple staining his lips, brows furrowed ever so slightly.

"As a kid, I always looked forward to birthdays: you know, gifts, people kissing up to you, that sort of thing." A smile for a particular memory, pipe carefully rotating between his fingers. "But now, they just mean I'm getting older; still get presents and all that, it's just–" Here he paused, unsure, not quite willing to look at me. "Look, I know this is stupid . . . But to be honest? I'm kinda scared."

The last was barely audible, yet I refused to react to his confession. Fear normally had no place in the brazen prince's vocabulary and if need be, I would be his confidant.

He licked his lips again, savoring the taste of sweet smoke before continuing. "Sometimes, I can feel _it_ stirring around inside – wanting to wake up but knowing it's not time yet. The feeling comes out of nowhere: when I'm eating, hunting, trying to sleep . . . I don't even have to be _thinking_ about a girl and bam!" He lashed out with his free hand, knuckles striking wood with a resounding 'crack'. "The urge to mate hits. Not rut – _mate_."

Here Yusuke paused, staring at his reddening hand. "When that happens, it's like nothing'll ever be okay again unless I mate: blood turns to hot steel in my veins, the skin tries to crawl off my body, everything gets loud – _stupid_ loud – and every woman I know pops up in my head naked, even my sisters and aunts." His nose wrinkled in disgust and he shook his head, braids flying. "I don't know how much more I can take, Kurama, and it's just getting warming up."

I bit my inner cheek, momentarily stepping back in time. Lost to drink, my cousin was a force to be reckoned with among women: he'd flirted with no less than six tonight and if Hiei had not stopped him, Yusuke would likely have taken his chosen dancer to his private chambers. The only advice I could offer chilled my stomach, yet I forced the words out. "Perhaps finding a mate now isn't a bad idea."

His face slackened in horror and I rushed to add: "If you find a mate soon, the Hunger will be sated before it can truly begin to fester – you need never fear it again." His mouth closed at this, lips white with effort. "There are many women in Tourin who would gladly be your bride–"

"No." Yusuke finally met my gaze, eyes burning with conviction.

I frowned, noting his trembling fist. "Yusuke–"

" _No_ , Kurama! I won't make a woman marry me so that I'll be _sated_!" He glared at the offending hand, nose wrinkled in disgust. "If I do, I won't be any better than–" There he stopped, squeezing both eyes shut and taking several deep breaths. The fist continued to shake, begging to break something, though the hand holding his pipe did not move – the priorities of an oni.

He only dared speak after both hands lay completely still upon the balcony. Taking a final breath, he opened his eyes, shoulders shifting to face me. "Whoever I mate will be the Queen of Tourin – the mother of my people. She'll rule beside me and not behind: you know I don't care about that chauvinistic crap."

He settled on his elbows before sighing, glancing at the stars once again. "Don't get me wrong, whoever I marry'll knock the socks off any woman _you'll_ ever find." He grinned, rubbing one horn. "She's gotta have a brain, though; or at least be smarter than me."

One of my brows rose of its own accord. " _That_ is your requirement?"

"One of 'em, yeah." He shook his head, fingers roving to his hair. "Come on, fox boy, you know thinking's never been my thing! My people'll be in a mess if I become king by myself." The grin slipped to a softer smile and his face dipped down, eyes tracing patterns in the wood. "I'm not asking for much: just want her to be from Tourin; smart, sexy – she's gotta have a body – and it wouldn't hurt if she's beautiful, too." He played with a particularly large seashell near the crown of his head, contemplating. "Seems we're always ticking somebody off, so she's gotta be able to take care of herself – I don't do pampered princesses – and I want her to be strong enough to put me in my place if need be."

I chuckled. "That's quite an extensive list."

"Only the best for Tourin!" He winked before donning a more somber expression, glancing back at the party. "I just don't want to marry a spoiled brat who can't fight her way out of an open sack. My country needs a _woman_ , not a girl." He shrugged, the motion morphing into a deep sigh. "I've been looking for months and haven't found her yet."

My lips relaxed and I laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, you will."

"Thanks." Yusuke returned the gesture before yawning, arms lifting in a full-bodied stretch. "Man, I'm beat!" He popped his neck, dumping ashes over the balcony's lip before returning the pipe to his plaid. "Mind if I crash here tonight? It's a long walk back to my rooms and I really don't wanna deal with Hokushin."

He appeared calm, relaxed, yet I knew better. I'd noticed the tension in his shoulders, how one foot tapped impatiently against the smooth stones, the hardness overtaking his eyes. Karasu came to mind unbidden, mighty wings ready for flight, slate eyes looking everywhere yet somehow always settling upon me–

I fought the shudder creeping down my back.

"Kurama?"

My eyes opened – when had I closed them? – to find Yusuke staring, gaze piercing through every defense. After a moment, his body immediately shifted to a more natural stance, hands plunging into navy folds as he cocked his head. Try as he might, he could not fool me–

Yusuke had noticed the attentions paid to me by our guest.

"It's nothing." I shook my head, leading the way back inside. "Feel free to use the couch, though be warned – Hiei normally stays here when we have company."

He smirked at this, hands moving to his hips. "Let him try to take my spot from me: I've got a good five inches on him!"

A/N: Hello again! Whoo, hope you guys enjoyed a longer chapter: An assassination attempt foiled, the joy of politics, male concubines and the Hunger – needless to say, I had fun writing this one.

Realize this one appears a bit information-heavy, but what's discussed in this chapter become important for the plot later on, especially where Hyouga and Tourin are concerned. If you guys have any questions about the world in this AU, please feel free to send a PM. Lots to look forward to!

Thank you so much for the new followers and for the reviews!

KyoHana: So glad you're enjoying reading The Whipping Boy! There's so much about the Middle Ages people don't know, so creating a medieval world with Yu Yu Hakusho is fulfilling. (I learn more about the period with each chapter.) Hopefully this chapter did not disappoint!

NoxChyc: Glad you enjoyed the dance! Shizuru and Kurama is definitely a ship, though it's not used very often. For this story, however, the coupling is definitely a thing. :) Thank you for your kind words!

Also, big thank you to my beta reader Candid Ishida! You're the best!

So, we have a creepy bird man and an icy lady in the castle! Are Kurama's anxieties well-founded, or is he overthinking things? Will Yusuke find a suitable woman in time, or is he doomed to succumb to the Hunger like his father? And why does Hiei know so much about Hyouga? It's tournament time next chapter! See you then!


	6. Dangerous Games

_Pour my life into a paper cup  
The ashtray's full and I'm spillin' my guts  
She wants to know am I still a slut_

– _Red Hot Chili Peppers_

Dangerous Games

 _"Hiei, are you ready to–"_

 _My tongue stilled of its own accord, shocked at the sight of sun-kissed skin. Though we'd long since passed the stage of asking permission before entering each other's chambers, never before had I found my companion in a state of undress._

 _Nearly twenty summers had come and gone since our first meeting, yet to the human eye we appeared boys still, caught on the cusp of adolescence. During that time, we'd both grown taller, leaner, faces stripped of childhood innocence. Time stood still for us, as it did for all of our people._

 _However, experience carried with it the harshness of reality. Hiei carried both swords with him at all times, along with no less than three knives safely hidden on his person. I kept a ready supply of seeds tucked in my hair and pockets, learned to hear things which should never be voiced and see what should never see the light of day:_

 _Needless to say, the first attempt on my life was not the last._

 _Hiei glanced over his shoulder, hands frozen in the act of picking up a tunic. Having long-since grown accustomed to his attire, the sight of black against scarlet bedclothes did not surprise me:_

 _However, his tainted back stole my breath._

 _Angry rivulets carved their way down his shoulders, ribs and spine, creating a patchwork not unlike veins lining a leaf. Sharp lines bit deeply into muscle, each covered by half-healed scabs; sickly bruises dotted his biceps, his sides, his hips – every possible hand-hold. Dark marks no more than an inch in diameter stained his skin, along with tell-tale blood blisters._

 _I knew those bruises; I'd seen them countless times on Asato's neck, forget-me-nots left by some woman or another. Marks of passion–_

 _Love bites._

 _Hiei placed a steadying hand against the wall but made no move to stop me from stepping closer. In fact, only his eyes moved as my feet carried me to his side, mouth resolutely closed. Purple stripes molded after fingers lined his throat, morphing even the white scars there a peculiar lavender. Dusky yellow clouded both wrists; his clavicle and chest doubtlessly ravaged by a feral animal. Surprisingly, his face remained untouched, both lips swollen as if he'd been struck, though I knew that not to be the case._

 _The distinctly feminine scent clinging to his skin said otherwise._

 _My brow furrowed, though he appeared unmoved by my anger. "Who did this to you?"_

 _A light snort and he looked away, raising the tunic once again. "This doesn't concern you, fox."_

 _Perhaps it was the lack of care, the forced fluidity of his body which unnerved me. The statement – a man's declaration from a child's throat – pierced my gut, prodding an emotion I did not believe myself capable of feeling:_

 _Anger._

 _Before conscious thought could surface, I grabbed his wrist, hiding the spectral flush there. His gaze fell to my hand though I refused to let go, even as his eyes narrowed._

 _I didn't understand – I had not miss-stepped in any way. Hiei was my whipping boy, any punishments were to be carried out before me, for_ _my_ _edification_ _. Yet father was home – I'd seen him minutes before–_

 _Also, Hiei had never been disciplined in such a fashion before._

 _Asato's souvenirs always made him smile, yet no joy lingered on my companion's face. In fact, with each passing second Hiei retreated further into himself, leaving unmoving red in his wake. Rage colored my vision at his obvious difficulty in standing, bled into my cheeks from the foreign perfume clinging to his skin. The vicious violet formed by a woman's hands dried my throat, shortened my breath:_

 _My fingers trembled against my will._

 _"Tell me."_

 _Ruby slits stared at my chin and he ripped his hand away, falling against the bed as his knee crumpled._

 _"Hiei–!"_

 _A single growl stopped me, low and rumbling – a warning. He met my gaze for an instant before glaring down at the offending leg, nose wrinkled in disgust. Gnawing my inner cheek, I noted how the normally loose-fitting trousers clung to his pelvis and that, where wool met flesh, the fabric darkened significantly–_

 _The unmistakable aroma of blood curled my nose._

 _Hiei forced his legs under him with a soft grunt and slipped the tunic over his head, effectively concealing the atrocities marring his abdomen. Less-than-steady hands wrapped a white scarf around his neck, completing the illusion:_

 _His eyes never once left mine._

 _Finally, he took both swords and slipped them into their respective places at his belt before turning to escort me, as he always did._

 _His practiced ease ultimately proved to be my undoing. "How long?"_

 _He stilled, though his legs thankfully agreed to the sudden halt. I wanted to believe this to be a one-time occurrence – something which could be dealt with quickly and efficiently – yet the effortless ease of his moves stated otherwise:_

 _His silence also testified against such a theory._

 _Finally, his voice slid from that too-still form, indifferent and cold. "Stay out of this, Kurama."_

 _We left, then, going to some function or another. I never broached the subject again, even when rumors of countless escapades reached my ears, when fingerprints and nail tracks lined his face, as well as other marks he could not hide. If Hiei wished to handle the matter alone, I would honor his request:_

 _Incidentally, we met Yusuke that very summer._

Darkness awaited on the other side of sleep, accompanied by ancient groans and the iris' song. A shaky breath and oak, chamomile, and lavender flooded my nose, along with other familiar smells: aged parchment, ink crafted from soot and gum; the fish-like scent of new silk–

My chambers.

Sweat clung to my hair, my skin, soaking through the thin tunic with each passing second. Air wafted through the balcony entrance as cicadas serenaded slumbering flowers; fresh dew and rose buds settled against my tongue, awakening every sense to summer.

I sighed and relaxed against the wrinkled bedclothes, allowing the night to engulf me. A clammy hand covered my eyes, massaging away Hiei's room, the marks tainting his flesh. I reveled in the stench, allowing acrid fear to ward off the memory–

I'd not thought of that day in quite some time.

Another inhale unearthed the absence of ashes and I sat up, forcing both eyes open. The woven willow chair waited patiently in the corner, bare bottom gleaming moonlight where my companion normally sat. I stared at the blanket draped across a wooden arm, noting careful evergreen creases, folds crafted by my own hand–

Hiei had yet to return.

I sighed, willing my body to rise. Cold stone bit into feet as I glanced at the sky through the arched threshold, toes curling. The moon glared from her perch, pale veil encompassing countless stars. She'd fallen lower in her bed since mine and Yusuke's conversation. I judged the hour now to be two in the morning:

Escorting a human to his chambers should not take this long.

True, the possibility existed of a woman calling him away. However, such a scenario at this hour was unlikely.

Taking a steadying breath, I stripped away the tunic, using the garment to wipe perspiration from my chest and abdomen. The dream was too fresh: with each passage of cloth, I saw black bruises, seeping scabs, blood blisters; each appeared in-tandem, as if my flesh were the abused party–

A shudder and the sensation passed.

Padding from the room, I slipped silently into my dressing chamber, biting back a smile at the snores emanating from the sitting room. Unwilling to answer the beckoning seed in my hair, I ran a blind hand across the shelves, satisfied when both shirt and trousers touched my fingertips. I dressed in the dark, not bothering with hose or other garments before sliding my feet into rich slippers. If need be, I would blame the late hour for my state of undress–

The dread gripping my gut demanded action.

I found Yusuke exactly as I left him: sprawled on the couch, cushions thrown to the floor, head nestled in his hands. Having withdrawn both arms from the plaid, Yusuke's bare chest acted as a container for the incessant noise, shoulders trembling with each spirited inhale. One leg thrown haphazardly over the back of the couch, he lay on his hair, allowing dark braids to replace the finery he did not want.

He did not so much as flinch at my nearness.

For a moment, I debated waking him before dismissing the notion. I knew Yusuke would laugh at my avoiding solitude – especially over something as superficial as a dream – so I left my cousin to slumber, slipping from my chambers with cat-like ease.

No guard awaited outside the door, though I did not expect one. Hiei remained by my side whenever father held court, so Asato decided long ago to place his men where they were most needed: either with the king or visiting diplomats. I had no doubt two stood before Yusuke's chambers, and three if not more watched over Rui's rooms.

Old oak whispered once again as I stopped before Hiei's door, pressing sure fingers against the carvings. The wood gave way easily enough, though no snide remark or glare awaited there. To my surprise, Hiei's chambers were wrapped in darkness, though the torch light seeping around my profile tore at the shadows. Nothing appeared out-of-place save for the cold embers in the fireplace – Hiei always kept a fire going, even while staying with me – and the red cloth crumpled on the floor.

My eyes narrowed as I studied the discarded silk, though I didn't dare intrude another step. Above all else, Hiei was a creature of habit: he handled his garments with the utmost care, even the woolen items he wore daily. I saw nothing amiss with the red pools – no tears or signs of a struggle – yet for father's gifts to be left to rot on the stone, heedless of dirt and wrinkles–

Something was terribly wrong.

His scent lingered still but tasted stale – well over an hour old. My legs longed to run but I restrained them to a brisk walk, turning from one corridor to the next. The smell of ash lingered everywhere and nowhere, burning my nose, pounding against my skull. His trail knew neither rhyme nor reason: measured paces led to prolonged periods pressed against a wall; steps traversing between a leisurely walk and a soldier's strut at the drop of a hat. The stone dutifully told the story of each step, preserving the scents of ash and old leather as if they were treasured relics.

The trail led past Kuwabara's chambers, though lingering scents told of several minutes spent before his door. I debated checking on the knight until snores almost as obnoxious as Yusuke's reached my ears, muffled only by thick wood. A sharp inhale betrayed no blood or poison, no substance of merit:

Hiei had kept Kuwabara safe, just as he'd promised.

A frown tugged at my lips as I pursued him, nose leading me deep into Schloss Wald. No guards appeared along the way: an oddity for the hour, yet one I did not have time to consider.

Finally, just as I reached the end of another corridor, a hushed voice reached my ears – a woman's voice. My back pressed against the wall of its own accord even as ashes coated my tongue, threatening to burn away every taste bud. Here, he was _here_ –

However, so was she.

I crept down the remainder of the hall on silent feet, never breaking contact with whispering wood. Several seeds chattered as one in my hair, hailing warnings so insistently I could not hear her words. Only decades of experience saved me from discovery when a sprig unexpectedly wrapped around my little finger, halting my steps.

A low murmur – Hiei's reply – and the wall released me, granting clearance despite the kernels trembling against my scalp.

Then, just as I breached the corner, the unmistakable clap of flesh-against-flesh.

I ducked behind the ancient trunk, pausing for breath before glancing into the neighboring corridor. Rui stood less than ten feet away; I could see her every curve clearly. Robed in a flowing nightgown of first snow, the koorime's jaw appeared taut in the faint torchlight, though no defined emotion crossed her face. Not surprisingly, she stood with all the confidence expected of a noblewoman: chin lifted, spine perfectly erect, chest thrust forward by sure shoulders–

Only trembling hands gave away her ruse.

Hiei stood with his back to me, attention focused on her. Tension radiated from the pair; his stance very much resembled her own, though he made no move to elevate his head. Customary black clung to his legs and torso, both shirt sleeves having been ripped away long ago. Tell-tale bruises – traitors of midnight passion – marked his throat and shoulders, each made prominent by tanned skin. The dragon's dark body appeared ready to leap from his arm, red eyes scheming, gleaming–

Waiting.

"How _dare_ you!" Rui hissed, shaking out one arm.

Only then did I notice the inflammation overtaking his right cheek, the imprint of a small hand–

The anger churning his eyes.

"How dare you wear such colors in a king's court!" She seethed, balling the offending hand into a fist.

Hiei's gaze flickered to her side, elbows brushing twin sword hilts as he pocketed his hands. "I wear the colors gifted me by King Yomi–"

The wood groaned as she struck, backhanding him across the mouth. His neck twisted with the motion, legs faltering a single step. I made to move – to come to his aide – but a sturdy branch wrapped around my wrist, halting my steps.

Red greeted me when I turned once more towards the corridor. Blood marred the corner of Hiei's mouth, welling atop his lip and slipping towards his chin. However, any protest died on my tongue once his eyes found mine. Dense ruby glared, rooting me in place with a power sure as the bark trapping my arm.

Once again, the dream found me, his voice piercing my ears:

 _Stay out of this._

Slowly, Hiei straightened, gaze shifting to the Koorime at the last possible moment. He popped his neck, shoulders rolling with the motion. Curiosity pursed her lips as her eyes wandered towards my hiding place and suddenly he spat, red-tinted saliva landing at her feet. He never took his hands from his pockets. The swords' silver handles caught oddly in the light, garnering a life of their own:

Suddenly, the absence of her companion became all too pronounced.

Rui's nose wrinkled at the insult before she forced all passion away: only when her face resembled a porcelain mask did she dare move, closing the distance between them with two measured steps. "Your prince has granted you too much freedom." She stated when mere inches separated them, voice distant. Cold. "You've forgotten your place."

He sneered at that. "No, your highness." The word rolled off his tongue like a piece of spoiled meat and he tipped his head back, daring to meet her gaze. "If anyone has _forgotten their place_ , it's you."

Something altogether ugly darted across her face – a serpent buried beneath the forest floor – and she lashed out again. This time, Hiei stopped her with relative ease, stepping aside and grabbing her wrist faster than my eye could follow.

Indignation colored her cheeks as she struggled against his grip. "Release me!"

"Do you know the penalty for striking a member of the Gandaran royal household?" He asked, voice calm despite her clawing at his hand.

Rui glared, nails leaving red rivulets in their wake. "You fancy yourself one of them?"

I couldn't see his face, could not gauge his reaction.

She laughed at his silence. "A dog, equal with his master? Have you learned nothing?" A smirk curled her lips and she rose once again to her full height. "Don't you see, boy? Until the day you die, you belong to–"

Hiei twisted her wrist further, earning a pain-filled cry. The branch released me then, returning silently to its place along the wall. Even granted freedom, however, I dared not move:

I couldn't bring myself to shatter the spectacle.

Rui stood still, though her body leaned dangerously to the side, helpless against Hiei's firm hold. "I belong to Gandara." His voice sent chills down my spine; inflections strange, foreign:

Riddled with ice.

His eyes never left her as he tightened her grip, uncaring of her torment, steel lining every word. "The only ones who command my loyalty are King Yomi and Prince Kurama." He straightened, the motion forcing her to bend all the more. "You would do well to remember that."

Suddenly, the walls groaned and phantom fingers found my neck, ran through my hair; soft thumbs traced my earlobes with surprising deftness, caressing my jaw with the tenderness of a lover.

I froze at the touch. The sensation lasted mere seconds yet unadulterated panic raced through my veins, halting all logical thought. Years of training, only to allow someone to come this close–

I bit back a curse. Without turning, I knew who held my throat so gently:

The rustling of wings only strengthened my resolve.

Lashing out, I leapt into the corridor, teeth gritting when my fist failed to meet icy skin. All at once, Hiei stood before me, natural heat a comforting blanket. Both hands gripping his swords, he chanced a quick glance over his shoulder, swollen lips parted in question.

"I'm fine." I murmured, massaging my throat while procuring a choice seed. The assurance sounded breathy in my own ears; strained–

Afraid.

Thankfully, Hiei did not press me further, turning instead to face our guests. Karasu stood before his mistress, wings extended, hiding her from view. His hands rested at either side, empty, open as if in invitation. Breath slithering through the slits of his mask, he made no move to attack, nor did he attempt to defend himself. Rather, he left each vital point in clear view: inner wrists boasting prominent veins; abdomen lax; sternum and throat nearly translucent in their paleness, the latter pronounced above the rest by a slight tipping of his head. His lack of self-preservation, much like a dog struck one too many times–

An unnerving sight, to say the least.

However, his eyes shattered the illusion of total submission. Dead pools shifted from Hiei to myself, grotesque in their lack of feeling. Eyes such as his should not possess depth, yet I found myself lost in their recesses, drug against my will to a place reeking of rotted bones and graveyard soil. Purple wormed its way into my brain, dissolving the line between fact and fiction, reality and dreams:

 _Once again, I was a child pulling my unwilling companion through the snow: coaxing him into the Diviega, pressing lush fruit to his lips. In the library, I saw him take my punishment, bite off Suzaku's thumb – witnessed him beaten within an inch of his life._

 _I pressed open his chamber door, allowing darkness to consume me. A tangible fear, knowing the dragon lurked there, awaiting someone to devour. A man's hands appeared from the shadows, wrapping around my throat, promising release through sweet sleep._

"Fox."

 _A blade. Tiny, blood-soaked hands. An iron circlet glinting in the moonlight, clasp broken, forgotten by the world._

 _A keening cry, the sobs of a boy_ –

"Kurama!"

Pressure atop my foot and I gasped, sucking air into burning lungs. Heart hammering in my throat, I glanced down to see red staring back, grounding me, forcing the apparitions away. Swallowing, I forced away the hand at my larynx, knowing bruises would blossom within the hour. "I'm alright."

Only after studying me a moment longer did Hiei retract his foot, turning his full attention back to his opponent. Karasu had yet to move: unfeeling violet remained focused on me, though his gaze lacked the power of just moments before.

"If I were you, I'd call off my pet." Hiei's voice rose as Rui shifted into view, clutching her right hand to her breast. "The maids cleaned here this morning – I'd hate for his blood to spoil their work."

Her face blanched at his white-knuckled grip around twin hilts, the promise in his glare. "Karasu, _st_ _öð_ _va_."

Immediately, Karasu retracted his gaze, falling to one knee on the smooth stone. Though he kept both hands in plain view, I watched as he watched her, wings spread as if in mid-flight–

The similarities to our meeting hours before ate at my spine.

Rui stepped from the haven of those wings with care. The pain of moments before remained buried beneath a mound of ice, though she cradled her wrist with the utmost care. "Your Highness." She acknowledged, though her head remained perfectly erect even as Karasu touched his forehead to one knee.

Hiei growled, a low rumble promising blood. I gently squeezed his shoulder, stepping before my companion just as Rui had done. Hiei instantly fell silent, though he did not relinquish his hold on the blades. The deadly seed in my hand moaned, begging to be of use, yet I refused to draw it out – not yet.

"Lady Rui." A simple greeting and I bowed my head, eyes fixed on hers. Though I trusted Hiei without question, I refused to let my guard down, not after what just transpired. "To what do we owe the pleasure of seeing you so late this evening?"

"I could ask the same of you, your Highness." A slight rolling of the shoulders and she allowed her arms to fall, cunning tinting both irises. "Gandara's flora are infamous, Lord Kurama – your gardens are known even in our kingdom." She glanced at her companion before continuing, gaze tracing the contours of his wings. "After arriving we were unable to see them – such was our need for an audience with your King."

She stepped directly before Karasu yet I refused to move, following her only with my eyes. A subtle whine of metal signaled Hiei's watchfulness as well. "Thus, when I could not sleep tonight, I felt a tour of the gardens would help. Karasu naturally accompanied me."

 _Naturally_. I fought the urge to scowl, face fixed in a wooden mask. "That does not explain how the two of you ended up here."

"No, I suppose it does not."She smirked, the slightest lifting of lips. "Schloss Wald is an impressive structure, my Lord – your people are right to be proud of your home. Never before today have I seen a fortress made of living trees." At the last word she reached out and touched a breathing wall, earning a soft groan from the wood. "That being said, the castle is immense, far grander than any structure in Hyouga. Though I consider myself to have a good sense of direction, I became lost rather easily, even with the trees' assistance."

My body tensed at this, eyes hardening against my will. Never had I heard accounts of any other than natural-born Gandarans being able to hear and understand flora, though now was not the time to think on such things. "Tell me then, what business do you have with Hiei?"

A soft hiss at my back and I felt Hiei stiffen, yet otherwise he did not move.

Rui's lips smoothed into a smile, a viper staring down an injured bird. "Our countries have been allies for a few centuries or so, correct?"

Only radiating heat signaled Hiei remained at my back; I could no longer hear his breaths. "I believe so, yes."

Her fingers wandered to Karasu's hair, absently petting the inky locks. Purple eyes closed at her touch, brows relaxing to the point of ecstasy. "Tell me, how much do you know of Hyouga?"

Hiei's revelations hours before came readily to mind and I bit back a grimace, watching Karasu melt into her touch. "Enough to serve Gandara's purposes."

She laughed at this, a bell-like sound which made the torches flicker. "A diplomatic response; I expected no less from Yomi's child." Karasu's eyes opened once again and he shifted closer to his mistress, gaze decidedly fixed on my throat. "Then we may speak plainly with one another – I desired Hiei for my bed."

My eyes widened and Hiei stepped closer, his forehead nearly brushing my shoulder. "I beg your pardon?"

"Forgive me if I've offended your sentiments, my Lord." Rui dipped her head, never pausing her ministrations. "You see, this mission was ordained by Queen Hina: she allowed me to bring along one man for the sake of speed, and while I acknowledge Karasu's eagerness, I am accustomed to at least two entertaining me at night."

A surge of heat, the barest tinkling of metal. I glanced down to see Hiei's right hand trembling, though from which emotion, I could not tell. Shifting my attention back to her, I allowed a fragment of anger to invade my voice. "Surely you realize that is an insult to King Yomi, as well as my house."

"I assure you, that was not my intention." She bowed her head once again, tracing light fingertips down Karasu's temple, the metal mask, his throat. "After meeting with your King, we mingled with the guests for a time and I asked if any knew of a willing man – any would do." Mint hair slipped readily over one shoulder, mingling with raven tresses. "Hiei's name sprang readily on each tongue, often with the assurance he would do whatever was asked of him – it appears your pet has quite the reputation."

The warmth intensified with every word. Perspiration trickled down my back, binding the tunic to my skin.

"Imagine my delight at hearing this!" She giggled, glancing coyly to my left. "Karasu knows many games, yet it's difficult to find a suitable playmate for him so far from home." Gray eyes rose to meet mine, stagnant depths filled with something akin to longing.

"Perhaps you would be willing to help, my Lord?"

Hiei snarled before the distinct sound of steel against wood filled my ears. Thrusting a blind hand back, relief swelled my gut when he allowed me to wrap sure fingers around his forearms, stopping him mid-draw.

A soft rustle betrayed Karasu. Facing forward, I saw he'd risen to stand before his lady once more, though he did not spare me a momentary glance. Attention focused solely on Hiei, he allowed his fingers to curl ever so slightly, both hands resembling a falcon's talons.

"So, you've trained him to heel on command." Rui said, derision dripping from her voice. "Well done, your Highness."

Hiei rebelled against my hold then – another growl, the slightest flexing of muscle – yet one glance and he ceased struggling, settling into a cold glare.

I refocused my gaze on her, choosing each word with care. "What I do in my home is my business, Lady Rui. Also," One quick glance to assure Hiei remained in control of himself and I aligned my feet with his, shielding his body completely with my own. "Hiei is a respected citizen of Gandara, as well as a member of the royal house." The seed cried out again and I pressed it further into my palm, comforted by the kernel's rough skin. "I do not know why you insist on speaking to him in such a manner. However, you should know such an offense carries consequences."

She dipped her head accordingly, though not before I saw her smile. "Of course, Lord Kurama. It will not happen again."

Karasu straightened at some unknown signal and stepped behind her, eyes roaming from Hiei to myself. I released my companion and met the Tengu's gaze against my better judgment.

Thankfully, invasive gray did not reappear.

"The hour waxes late." Rui said, glancing at the moon through a natural breach in the wall. "If you will excuse us."

They dismissed themselves promptly – her curtsying as he bowed – before gliding past us, feet silent against the well-worn stones.

"Oh, and Lord Kurama?"

I turned, shoulders tense even though my expression remained unchanged. Rui stood with her back to us, balanced on the balls of her feet much like a child attempting some game. One hand pressed against Karasu's chest for balance, she stretched the other upwards, fingers splayed to touch his chin, grazing the gleaming mask tenderly. He watched her with rapt attention, lids heavy, wings quivering with each pass of her fingertips–

Altogether, I felt myself an intruder upon something utterly private.

As if sensing my thoughts, she smiled over one shoulder; gaze voluptuous, ethereal:

"Be careful – he bites."

"Still don't understand why you let 'em walk away."

I sighed, massaging the bridge of my nose. Tender sunlight bathed the corridor before us, soaking through my cloth soles with abandon. Yusuke's stride matched my own effortlessly, though his eyes remained defiantly closed to the morning's pleasantries. As was his habit, my cousin wore neither shirt nor tunic beneath his outer garment. However, he'd changed into his best cotton plaid at Hokushin's request, hem falling to the knees of ivy breeches. Although each step appeared pronounced, bold, even arrogant, his bare feet met the wood floor without a sound. His stone club rested across both shoulders, held in place by tanned wrists.

Biting back another sigh, I acknowledged a guard's greeting with a smile, though the gesture took considerable effort. Nearly a week had passed since the midnight rendezvous with Lady Rui and Karasu, yet I'd seen little of them since. Father graciously adjusted the festivities to include our guests, honoring them alongside his only nephew with all the luxuries Gandara had to offer: lavish parties brimming with anything the palate could desire; live entertainment featuring fire-eaters, troubadors, and accomplished jesters; as well as feats of strength including archery and skittles matches, along with countless wrestling matches. While neither Rui nor her companion participated in these lively sports, Yusuke and his entourage enjoyed themselves immensely, soundly beaten by the Gandarans in archery only.

Still, despite the revelry, Hiei maintained his silence.

To my surprise, Yusuke was awake and awaiting us when we returned to my chambers that night. My cousin immediately noticed Hiei's split lip and swollen cheeks and demanded answers, anger raising his voice to deafening volumes.

Yusuke has never been known for his subtlety.

Still, Hiei did not answer his questions and refused to look at either of us before shouldering past Yusuke and disappearing into my bedchamber. I told the Oni prince all I knew but too many unanswered questions remained, too many variables, none of which explained either the Koorime or my companion's behaviors.

Hiei remained by my side faithfully for the remainder of the week – allowing me privacy only to relieve myself – yet still he'd spoken only a handful of words since the incident.

"Such matters must be handled with care, Yusuke."

Finally, my cousin opened his eyes to glare at me. "So watching a friend get smacked around is _handling with care_?"

I sighed, steeling myself for the conversation we'd had countless times over the past week. "Yusuke–"

"No, tell me how that's _handling_ anything, Kurama!" A growl rumbled deep in his chest as his lips peeled back to reveal sharp fangs. Not for the first time, my gaze traversed to the barbarous crown atop his head – a circlet carved from wood found only in the deepest valleys of Tourin. Crooked black arms sprang from the circlet, clawing heavenward in a desperate bid for light, for power:

For blood.

"You see Hiei hit by someone you know he can't fight, _listen_ to her talk to him like he's trash, _spectate_ while she makes him _bleed_!" He hissed, voice receding all the while. While normally Yusuke remained fairly predictable, years of experience taught me to beware of his silence. Eyes narrowed to slits, he ground his jaw, hands tightening on his club all the while.

"Is that how Gandara treats its friends?"

I turned to face him fully then, willing all emotion away. We stood with precious little space between us – we'd stopped walking some time ago – and the anger radiating from him was palpable, nearly choking in its intensity. As a whole, Oni were renowned for their rage and my cousin was no exception. I'd witnessed first-hand the rashness accompanying Yusuke's anger – his lack of self-control when the emotion swept over him, as well as his regret when it dissipated – and knew this must be dealt with swiftly, logically. "What would you have me do, Yusuke?"

A raised brow; a knowing look. "Do ya really have to ask?"

I brought both arms behind my back, determined to uphold the ruse of helplessness. "All right, let's say I allowed Hiei to attack the two of them, that I even participated in the assault myself. What then?"

He blinked, anger ebbing into confusion. "Isn't that kind of self-explanatory, fox boy? Happens all the time: you lose your cool and get into it with someone; the two of you duke it out, throw everything you've got at each other. Then, after you've beaten each other stupid you make up and there's no hard feelings, like nothing ever happened."

It was my turn to raise a brow. "And what if who you 'lose your cool' with is of noble rank?"

Yusuke wrinkled his nose, fingers tracing the curve of one horn. "Well, that depends on the noble. If he or she's an Oni there's usually not a problem, same scenario from a minute ago. If it's a foreign emissary or some bozo from another land–"

Here his voice trailed off and those fingers dove into his hair, knuckles brushing the crown as he massaged his scalp. "Well, say you came to visit and we got into it, fists flying, blood and teeth everywhere, the works." He glanced down the hall, frowning at the thought. "I want to make up but you're still ticked with me being minced the night before–"

"Minced?"

He shook his head, waving dismissively. "Minced, tooteroo, hammered, however you want to put it." A frown as he met my gaze again, sliding the free hand into his plaid. "Point is, if you demand compensation I have to give it to you, whether it's gold or letting you beat _me_ stupid. After that, it's over – we never bring it up again."

"Ah but see, things are not so simple in Gandara." I smiled, setting us apace again. "From what you've just said, I take it your actions have no bearing on King Raizen, or Tourin as a whole?"

A snort and Yusuke shook his head, shells and bits of brass clacking against his horns. "Pfft, no! Why would it? It's not anyone else's responsibility if someone ticks me off or I malk 'em. If do I go overboard, though, Hokushin makes sure I know about it – you saw that." He rubbed his forehead, grimacing at the memory.

The thought did not bring to mind the intended mirth. "You forget that our upbringings were vastly different, Yusuke: you were allowed the freedom to live among your people whereas I've never traveled outside the parameters of the capital. As the King's only child, I was never afforded that luxury. You also grew up without your actions effecting anyone other than yourself, much like a normal citizen. Tourin afforded you that, though the laws governing Oni and Gandarans are worlds apart."

Suddenly, my cousin grimaced, as if he'd bitten into a piece of sour fruit. "Look, I know what shorty's job is, alright? You don't have to be so dramatic."

A well-meaning sprig reached out as we passed, brushing tender leaves against my hand. Its touch reminded me of the angry hand prints marring Hiei's face; how he never protested, no matter what anyone did to him–

The thought made me sick.

"I'm not being dramatic, Yusuke, simply making a point. This is something you can't understand – not until you've experienced it yourself."

"Oh, come on, Kurama! You've always been a goody-two-shoes: always a daddy's boy, even when we were kids." He rolled his eyes, staring at the ceiling. "How much trouble could _you_ possibly get into?"

A dry chuckle escaped my lips. "More than you could imagine."

Yusuke's mouth clamped shut and we walked in silence for a few minutes. Slowly but surely, the rest of the castle began to stir, shattering the illusion of privacy. We spotted several guards along the way, as well as a few nobles hailing from our respective countries. The Gandarans offered wan smiles and subtle nods as we passed, though Yusuke's men gave resounding yells and good-humored jeers, stomping the floor and pounding their chests with meaty fists. Yusuke smirked and lifted his club, returning their insults with a colorful palette and a twinkle in his eye. My people watched the display with well-veiled disgust, an emotion which would go unnoticed unless one knew what to look for:

It was a look I'd seen directed towards Hiei too many times.

Another clatter of shells and Yusuke glanced at me, expression inscrutable. "So, how much longer?"

The inquiry was low – the barest of whispers – not that the content would matter to anyone else.

I nodded towards a noble, the image of social grace. "Another summer."

He exhaled sharply, nostrils flaring. While the differences between our races were many, none set us apart so much as the idea of a mature age. In Tourin, a boy was considered a man after two criteria were met: fighting his first battle, and maintaining a true erection. Both attributed to the rich history surrounding the Oni as a warrior race, yet while the first held true for males in surrounding countries, Tourin remained the only kingdom which based manhood partially on a man's genitalia:

Such a thing was considered barbaric in Gandara.

Still, Yusuke met his people's standards years ago and had long-since been considered a man. The only reason he'd yet to take his place as king was that his father maintained his sovereignty, despite the Hunger's slow consumption of his faculties.

Things moved at a considerably slower pace in Gandara. My people were not considered mature until we had a few centuries under our belts, two hundred being the average. While I'd passed that marker long ago, father insisted on my gaining more experience, to not rush on as other races did. Still, he finally agreed to acknowledge my passage into manhood during the winter solstice, the day before we celebrated my birth:

My three-hundredth winter.

"Hey, wait up!"

The unmistakable clatter of metal against metal sounded in-time with the shout, heralding the arrival of our newest companion. Kuwabara ran towards us from the far reaches of the hall, garnering quite a few disdainful looks from his fellow nobles. He did well in ignoring them, though; not stopping to apologize to each like I expected. Thick plate armor adorned his legs and arms while shimmering chain mail stretched up his throat, erupting from the blue tunic covering his torso like a bubbling stream. Helmet held securely at his side, he moved with surprising grace, as if the old-fashioned plate weighed nothing. Finally, the sword on his belt – his grandfather's sword – beat against a protected thigh with each step, adding to the one man parade which was Kazuma Kuwabara.

"Huh, didn't know we were playing dress-up today." Yusuke quipped as the knight stuttered to a stop before us, hands draped either end of his club.

"Sh-shut up, Urameshi!" Kuwabara panted, leaning forward to catch his breath. Not an easy feat, if his expression was any indication. "You said we were meeting in your rooms!"

"Did I?" The Oni prince tilted his head back, contemplating, though I saw his minuscule smirk.

"Yeah, you did!" Kuwabara growled, gritting his teeth and straightening. "Do you know how long it took to convince your guardian that I _didn't know_ where you were? How _angry_ he was?!"

Yusuke grinned. "No," He replied, rolling his weight from his heels to the balls of his feet and back again. My cousin had never been good at containing his glee. "Tell me."

"He threatened to cut my balls off!" The human exploded, invading his personal space.

Suddenly Yusuke grimaced, unconsciously ducking his midsection away from our companion. "Wow, that's . . . a bit harsh, even for Hokushin–"

"Then he said he'd _feed them to me_ , one-by-one!" Kuwabara screeched, ignorant of the ruckus he was making. "He meant it, too! I could tell because he had the same look in his eye sis gets when–"

"Perhaps this conversation is best suited for another time." I interjected, calling for their attention with raised hands. "If we do not leave now, we will be late."

"Right." Yusuke mumbled, scratching a horn before glancing at Kuwabara. "Hey, sorry about that."

Kuwabara blinked, clearly taken aback.

"I just wanted to get away for a bit, you know? In case you couldn't tell, Hokushin takes his job as my guardian way too seriously – he acts like I'll get kidnapped or something if I'm not guarded twenty-four-seven. Drives me nuts!" Here Yusuke paused, extending a hand. "I wanted to get him off my back but he went too far, threatening you with . . . _that_." He shuddered, shaking his head. "So I'm sorry."

I watched the exchange silently, fighting the smile which wanted to form. Much of Kuwabara's unease towards nobility had dissipated in the past week – at least where the Tourites were concerned – and it was all thanks to Yusuke. My cousin refused to respond to the knight's ingrained mannerisms and niceties, instead choosing to find what pushed the human's buttons and press them for all he was worth. Though Kuwabara refused to call him by his given name, a compromise had been reached by the end of their second day together.

Thus why he called Yusuke by his family name, something my cousin had yet to allow anyone else to do.

A unique bond was slowly forming between them, one completely separate from society's standards:

It was a truly marvelous thing to see.

The human hesitated a moment longer before returning the gesture, clasping Yusuke's hand in his own. "You owe me."

Yusuke snorted. "As if!" With that, we turned and continued on our way, Kuwabara taking up residence at his right side. "By the way," Yusuke wrinkled his nose, taking in the blue tunic. "You're not actually planning on wearing that, are you?"

"Yeah?" Kuwabara fingered the material, raising a brow. "What's wrong with it?"

"Uh, hello?" Yusuke allowed one hand to fall away from the club, pinching at his plaid. "Blue and yellow are the colors of the Urameshi clan, stupid! You can't wear one of my colors in the tournament!"

Kuwabara squinted at the sky-blue garment in Yusuke's calloused fingers. "Hey, blue's belonged to the Kuwabaras since before the Dragons' War – we had it first! Besides," He sneered, jerking a thumb towards his chest. "My blue's way cooler than yours – you've got a girly shade."

Thus began the long walk from the castle to the training grounds. As I listened to the two of them bicker and exchange spirited insults, I couldn't help but think of the day Yusuke arrived here, when the four of us walked to Schloss Wald together.

In that moment, I would have given anything to have another familiar face beside me, one who would silence or spur them on with a handful of words, depending on which struck his fancy.

Sadly, Hiei did not appear.

A/N: First off, sorry for the wait and that the tournament is being pushed back another chapter. I tried writing it with this one but it didn't fit but hey, that gives everyone something to look forward to.

Big thanks to Candid Ishida for great beta reading, as well as to lolab for the awesome cover art! I'll post a link to her page on my bio.

WhatWouldValeryDo: Glad you're enjoying TWB so far! Yes, new era means new roles. Wonder how the boys will hold up to their society's standards?

All right, so what's in store for Kurama and his friends? What's up with Rui and Hiei, and what does a tournament organized for Elves and Oni look like, anyway? Stay tuned for the next chapter!Also, be prepared for the return of a lovely lady. ;)

stöðva – Stop in Icelandic.

minced – Scottish for drunk.

tooteroo – Another Scottish word for drunk.

malk – Scottish verb for severely beating someone.


	7. Thunderstruck

_To be angry is to revenge the_

 _faults of others on ourselves._

 _Alexander Pope_

Thunderstruck

 **Hiei's POV**

 _They were coming._

 _Rough footfalls echoed against the aqueduct's walls, overpowering the water splashing at our ankles. High-pitched screeches sounded, threatening all measures of bodily harm, though I didn't dare stop. Sweat beaded my brow; I couldn't breathe – the weight at my throat forbid it. Chest burning, I sped down one bend after another, hurrying along a one-way path to nowhere._

 _Laughter barked against the stone and my steps quickened, nausea welling. Things were different this time. I'd broken the rules, I'd broken all the rules: disobedience, exercising my tongue, raising my hand in anger; I even burned_ _ **her**_ _, my treasure, the bright morning star–_

 _They were coming and it was all my fault._

 _The hand clutching mine tightened, igniting silent strength. Her breaths rose above mine then, fragile as flakes falling in the night. Still, I took courage in her touch and urged us on, murmuring promises I knew I couldn't keep._

 _At the next turn, she lost her footing and cried out. I spun and caught her without thinking, mermaid-hair spilling across both arms. A pain-filled whimper reached my ears though she refused to cry:_

 _She wouldn't share her gifts so easily._

 _Her lips bled a name for my ears alone and I tightened my grip, desperately seeking a place to hide. I'd done something unforgivable, something even the severest of beatings couldn't fix. They were going to separate us; they wanted to take me away–_

 _I couldn't do that to her._

 _A crevice in the wall caught my eye and I pulled her across the narrow channel, savoring the smell of her hair. I remained mute as she whispered the name again, fighting as I wedged her into the crack. There wasn't room enough for both of us but that was alright:_

 _Everything would be okay, so long as she was with me._

I woke only to become sick on the fox's floor.

The first light of dawn found me crouched on the cold stones, silently heaving what little food remained in my stomach. Satisfied the sensation had passed, I wiped my mouth, disgusted to find my hand trembling.

For once, I was grateful for Kurama's inhibited senses.

Throwing my cloak over the vomit, I allowed my gaze to sweep the room before staring at the prince. Kurama remained lost to the throes of sleep, fingers curled around the coverlet, hair splayed across the pillow like so much blood. Eyes shifting behind closed lids, each breath sounded softly through flared nostrils, marked by the steady rise and fall of his chest. Though a lighter sleeper than most, the fox refused to wake at minor discrepancies in sound, the slightest shift of light–

He wasn't bred for such things.

A tinkling bell reached my ears, soft as a distant bird call. I cleaned the mess in one swipe and balled my cloak in my fist, slipping from the room without a sound. Yusuke continued his incessant snoring as I entered the sitting room, turning away from me in his sleep.

I crept to the door, careful to place myself between the entrance and the Oni prince. Attempts on Yusuke had never been exercised within the castle but with tensions between the two kingdoms rising, anything was possible. Fingers closing around both sword hilts, I crouched, ready to strike–

Until the sickly stench of perfume stopped me.

Biting back a curse, I rose, slowly opening the door. A woman I'd never seen stood beyond the threshold, eyes veiled beneath dark lashes. Muddy hair piled high atop her head, her arms hugged her bosom, mismatched oranges straining beneath ruddy green folds. She stood nearly a head taller than I, bearing every mark of nobility though no earrings dripped from her slender ears. A black bracelet shone in the torchlight as she shifted from one foot to the other, petite bell darkened by age swaying this way and that:

She refused to look at me.

We both knew what the bell meant – a calling card, a secret shared only by women in Schloss Wald – yet still I hesitated. The fox would wake any minute now, mind set on that ridiculous tournament. I was expected to escort him there, to protect him at all costs. I–

The bell chimed again and my stomach roiled, demanding obedience. Panic squeezed my throat, the phantom of a weight from years past. Mind racing, I sought ways to not hear the bell, though aside from covering my ears such a thing was impossible–

My hands were not made for rebellion.

Of course, I refused to allow such such weakness to surface. I knew my place, as she did hers.

She would get what she desired and I would not resist.

Rolling her shoulders back, the woman raised her head, doing her best to project confidence. "Come."

And failed miserably. Her voice wavered, brow creased ever so slightly. Both hands trembled against her skirts, causing the bell to chime once again. A weak woman, the type who always did what she was told only to whine about it later:

Those were always the most violent.

Breathing a silent sigh, I stepped into the hall, closing the door. We did not touch as I followed her down the corridor – that would come later, in the privacy of her chambers. Long nails fidgeting at her thigh, crooked teeth gnawing her lip. Anxiety seeped from her flesh, peppered with embarrassment and sticky excitement:

All promised a busy morning.

 **Kurama's POV**

Unadulterated sunlight encompassed all as we stepped from beneath the castle's shade, each ray promising a warm day. Flowers chattered and soft grass blades crooned, tugging at trouser legs and brushing against exposed flesh. Downy petals pressed the backs of my hands, fresh leaves nudged Kuwabara's hollowed cheeks while patches of moss cushioned Yusuke's toes, adding a spring to his already light step. The land rejoiced at our presence, serenading with a song few could hear–

A direct contrast to my heavy heart.

"Just so you know, this royally sucks."

I glanced back at my cousin, conscious of the vine twining between my fingers. Yusuke walked with his ever-confident air – club slung over one shoulder, free hand resting snugly inside his plaid. Though his eyes remained closed, he never stepped on the lilies tugging the ends of his hair, nor the dahlias fussing over his pants the color of day-old dandelion blooms. No, despite his gusto, Yusuke refused to harm the land in any way.

He'd held that same respect for as long as I could remember.

"U-Urameshi!" Kuwabara hissed, carefully sidestepping a bright patch of petunias.

"No, it's all right." I allowed the ivy to slip away, glancing towards my cousin. We were fast approaching the hill which led to the orchards: this was Yusuke's last chance to speak his mind before the laws of decorum overrode all else. "Please, continue."

The Oni prince scowled, refusing to meet my gaze. "Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful Uncle did all this for me. It's just–" Here he unsheathed his hand only to scratch a horn, burying eager fingers into his braids – a nervous habit leftover from boyhood. "It's going to be a pain fighting around all _this_!"

The foliage giggled in response, each note soft as the breeze.

I tilted my head, conscious of the various flora slipping into my sleeves and boots, willing themselves to be of use. Smiling, I willed them into seeds, feeling each help its neighbor weave into the garment. "You don't like it?"

Yusuke shuddered. "No thanks! Give me cold stone any day!"

Kuwabara's brow furrowed as we stepped beneath the shade of lush peach trees. "Wait, are you saying there aren't any plants in Tourin?"

"What? No! Of course there are plants in Tourin, dummy! How else would we eat?" Yusuke shook his head, ornaments cackling. "The difference is our food doesn't _talk_ to us!"

I chuckled as a well-meaning branch jostled his crown, darkening his mood further. "There are many advantages to such a tie with one's land, Yusuke."

"Tch! Like I said, no thanks!"

The knight's shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, fighting to catch my cousin's eye. "But why did you say 'cold stone'?"

Yusuke raised a thick brow. "Ever fought in the mountains?"

"Unh-uh." Kuwabara shook his head. "My family's estate is about twenty miles north of here; I've never gone far beyond it."

Yusuke snorted, returning his hand to the folds of his plaid. "You two need to get out more."

Silence fell as we passed through rows of peach and apple trees, each humming in acknowledgment yet refusing to reach for us as the others had. Of course, the date, plum, and fig trees acted after the same manner. The harvest was fast approaching, after all, and every ounce of strength went towards best serving their King.

The nut groves knew no such restraint, however. One after another, they extended the remnants of pecan, almond, and other yields to us, often dropping them in Yusuke's crown as if it were a stout bowl. Kuwabara laughed outright at this and though my cousin grumbled and yelled at the branches, he never raised his fist to them. Not once.

After a squirrel's bounty tumbled past his shoulders, Yusuke glared at me. "Why does this shindig have to be in an orchard, anyway?"

I smiled as a late blossom was placed atop the trees' gifts, calling off their affections with a wave. "You'll see."

Soon enough, we reached the wall marking father's private gardens. The Diviega dwarfed all else. In fact, the ancient trunk appeared to stretch taller at our nearness, branches green and proud in the morning sun. Fragile pods erupted here and there among full leaves, though the tree would not bear fruit for months. Still, the bark sent forth its fragrance, honeyed mint with a pinch of spice–

A call I refused to answer.

Suddenly, Yusuke stopped, leaning against his club and grinning. "Well, well, well, look who finally decided to show up!"

My steps faltered and I blinked, gazing into the shadows cast by the wall. Slowly, a figure materialized – one marked by wild hair and skin caressed by the sun. Hiei stepped into our path without pomp or airs, ever-conscious of the flowers at his feet:

The sight made my breath catch; the smile suddenly died on Yusuke's lips.

Hiei's face resembled an over-ripe date: a medley of reds, purples and browns stretched across his cheekbones, mottled his ears, stained his jaw. Angry crimson streaked down his cheeks and throat, nearly hiding the savage imprints of teeth. Sickly green marked both arms from shoulder to fingertip, swallowed only by the black dragon's coils. One eye remained closed – shut by a still-oozing cut – while the other managed to give the illusion of holding my gaze while doing the exact opposite; a skill perfected from many years of servitude.

Kuwabara dared to speak first, voice sounding far off. "H-Hiei! W . . . What happened to _you_?"

My companion scoffed, lips puffed and pounding. "Nothing."

Yusuke saved Kuwabara from responding by striding forward, taking Hiei's chin between firm fingers. "If this is your idea of 'nothing', remind me to never drink with you." My cousin mused, turning the shorter man's face this way and that before touching the cut at his eye.

Finally, he smirked. "Bet you're a mean drunk."

Hiei jerked away and Yusuke let him go, stepping back to my side. Kuwabara watched as we shared a knowing look, noting the all-too-familiar bruises marring Hiei's body–

The stench of sex clinging to his skin.

I willed my face into a porcelain mask, all emotion falling from my voice. "Are you well enough to fight?"

A snort and Hiei crossed his arms, though he still refused to look at me. "Of course."

 _Of course_. What other answer could he give?

"Wha– Your Highness, you can't be serious!" I turned to see Kuwabara throw an arm in Hiei's direction, face darkened the shade of a ripe cherry. "You can't expect him to compete like this! If someone attacked Hiei, we've got to–"

"He can and he will." I cataloged the unfamiliar scent wafting from Hiei's hair – jasmine tainted by ginger – before turning cold eyes to the knight. "We have no other choice."

"But–!" Kuwabara ground his jaw, hands curling into fists.

"Gandaran law dictates that in any tournament, a champion must be elected to represent the royal family. The law also states royalty cannot participate in something as trivial as fighting for sport – the risk is too great." I could feel the flora's anger as their seeds trembled inside my garments, a sentiment I shared yet could not show. "Hiei has acted as our champion for years and fought under worse conditions."

Still, Kuwabara shook his head. "It's not right!" He stamped one foot, not daring to look up. I noted the anger churning those cobalt eyes, like the gathering of thunderheads. "It's not right–"

"You sound like an old woman." Hiei quipped, wiping at the cut with the heel of his hand. A flash of pink and he lapped the liquid before pressing his hand to the eye once more, watching the knight all the while. Finally, he spat, red flying as he wiped the remaining saliva on his trousers. "Did you leave your skirts at home?"

"What's _wrong_ with you?" Kuwabara snapped, taking a step forward. Fists raised, knees bent as much as his armor would allow – he looked very much like a bear about to charge. "Can't you see I'm just trying to help–"

"I don't need your help, nor your pity." Hiei shot back, frost hinging every word.

Before the knight could respond, Yusuke rose to his full height and Hiei turned, both staring towards our destination. The sound of raised voices reached my ears, an unmistakable melody curling my lips. "It appears they are starting without us."

"What? No!" Kuwabara started off at a run, helmet banging from its place at his belt.

Yusuke glanced my way brow raised. "He knows they can't actually start until we get there, right?"

"Come on, guys!" The knight called back, gloved hand glinting in the sun. "Urameshi, are all Oni this slow or are you just the exception?"

"I'll take that as a no." He popped his neck before throwing his head back to bear a toothy grin. "Watch yourself, Kuwabara!"Yusuke exclaimed before breaking away from us, braids flying as they raced across the orchard.

I shook my head, fighting a chuckle even as Hiei muttered "Idiots."

We followed at a measured pace, content with watching their demented game of tag. Hiei kept pace at my right rather than falling behind, an unusual breach in etiquette. I couldn't help but be grateful for it granted the opportunity to study his injuries discreetly, namely the cut and imprints along his jugular. A slight limp marked his gait – one the casual observer could easily overlook – and he appeared intent on keeping hip and shoulder movements to the bare minimum. Blood mingled with the exertion of sex, as well as the perspiration of another, one who ate entirely too many tostees.

Then, the welded eye forced itself open and he glared, currant iris proclaiming what his mouth would not:

 _Stay out of this_.

"Whoa . . ."

I couldn't help but smile when we found our companions outside the perimeter of my private gardens. Tiger lilies, petunias and speckled buttercups swayed at the ankles of three men and three women, all proud Gandarans of varying ages. Each wore flowing robes of white – a privilege given only to enchanters – plaited hair spilling down their backs in shades of brown, gold and black. Arms outstretched, their voices rose and fell in conjunction with one another, fingers spread skyward. Sopranos, tenors and smooth baritones fled from parted lips, spewing words few remembered and even less could know.

Stately maple, winsome willow, as well as various nut trees shuddered at those words, bending to the enchanters' will. Ancient wood moaned as the trees bowed to the earth and twisted, performing feats even the best contortionist could only dream of. Each branch freely shook away some bark, leafy batches rising to form a flawless canopy above stouter brethren.

When the song finally died and each alabaster pillar fell from heaven, a nearly perfect circle lay before us, interrupted only by two minuscule patches of grass on either end of the clearing. The stands gleamed proudly under the sun, as though they had been there for ages. Each tree bled together save one, which rose higher than the rest. This particular tree – an almond with pale bark and watchful eyes – had truly outdone itself, somehow forming three ornate thrones with intertwined branches. The middle throne stood tallest and though the other two were unique pieces, all were irrefutably feral, shivering with anticipation.

Kuwabara watched the entire process with mute fascination, mouth agape. Yusuke's smirk grew as he leaned his full weight against his club, fist digging into his side. "Not bad, fox boy – see your magi haven't lost their touch."

Hiei snorted, glancing his way with his good eye. "You expected anything less?"

"'Course not." He grinned, straightening to rummage through his plaid. In short order, he'd withdrawn and lit his pipe, exhaling sweet smoke through flared nostrils. "Just glad Uncle's taking this seriously."

The knight turned to face us, eyes misted with wonder. "How did they do that?"

"Weren't you paying attention? They told the trees to move and they did." Yusuke scoffed, teeth clamped around his pipe stem.

"Yeah, I saw that! But . . . How?"

"It will take too long to explain now." I stepped between the two, watching Oni and Gandaran alike prepare for battle. Swords and shields, maces and clubs; some even wielded thick slingshots and slender daggers, testing each for sharpness, strength, and durability. Only bows and arrows were forbidden due to the proximity of the stands but the Oni had no qualms with this – such shifted the odds in their favor.

Mint hair sprang forth and I shifted my gaze, sorting through the rough bodies milling about. Rui and Karasu resided among the rest of the combatants, the Tengu kneeling before his mistress so she could whisper in his ear. He wore his customary black though a cuirass now covered his chest, collar straining against the too-pale throat. Half-mask glinting in the sun, his lids drooped as he listened, her voice a wine of which he would never tire.

Hiei followed my line of sight yet remained silent, puffed lips pressed together.

"Well, we may as well join 'em." Yusuke sighed, tapping the ashes from his pipe before returning it to a hidden pocket. "The sooner we get there, the less I'll have to hear from Hokushin."

Welcoming cries rose as we made our way towards the arena, the Oni each bearing bright smiles and toothless jabs:

"Lord Yusuke!"

"Hou's it gaun?"

"Hokushin's lookin' fer ye."

Yusuke waved his club dismissively, eyes closed to his countrymen. Several Oni sidled up to their leader, pinching at his clothes and hair.

One in particular grinned, an older ram with thick curling horns and bright green eyes. "Yer a chancer." A slit of mahogany appeared to stare at the man bedecked in purple and ruddy orange, thick brow raised. "Yer gettin' skelped one of these days."

"Aye, aye." Yusuke rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance and placing a hand on the Oni's head much as father had days before. "Awa' an bile yer heid."

The man grunted, giving the prince's foremost horn a slight tug before turning back to his preparations, a chuckle rumbled from his belly.

"Blethers, all of 'em." He threw a scowl at his people, which only made them laugh all the more. Finally, his lips lifted into a smile and he sighed, tightening his hold on the club at his shoulder. "Well, let's find your old man and Hokushin. I wanna get this out of the way as quickly as possible."

Hiei followed two measured paces behind at my left and Kuwabara mimicked him at my right, staring still at the sighing trees. The human's eyes had yet to return to their normal shape. "Your Highness?"

Much as I loathed the title, I dared not correct him now. "Yes?"

"Do y–" He swallowed, gaze tracing the gold threads at my shoulder. "Do you think I could do something like that?"

Hiei scoffed, his voice a whisper of wind as he sidestepped a pile of weaponry. "You really are an idiot."

"I'm serious!" He hissed, thankfully conscious of listening ears and roving eyes. "The prince said only a few can hear the land, remember?" Onyx flecks found me again, pleading, just this side of desperate. "Since I can hear, that means I can learn to talk to it, right?"

One glance and I could tell Yusuke was listening too, though his steady gait argued otherwise.

"In theory, yes." I admitted slowly, choosing each word with care. "Though to date, Gandara has never possessed a human enchanter."

Rather than discourage, however, this news appeared to intrigue him. Kuwabara's steps quickened until only an inch separated us, brow furrowed. "How come?"

"Your race dies too quickly."

"Hey!" He snapped, nearly stumbling as he glared over his shoulder.

"Hiei has a point." I interjected softly, reclaiming his attention. "Simply having the ability to hear is not enough – one must also be able to communicate with and impose his will upon the land. To do so requires intensive study of the body, flora, as well as the language which existed since the world began." A placating smile rose as I saw some of the brightness fade from his eyes. "It is no easy task."

Kuwabara stopped and our procession ground to a halt with him. For a moment, I truly believed I'd broken his spirit. Countless thoughts flitted behind his eyes, emotions I could not hope to name: brow pinched, lips pressed into a tight line; jaw grinding to the steady beat of his heart, the clinking of chain mail.

Finally, he met my gaze. "One year."

I blinked; a grunt of surprise sounded at my back. "I beg your pardon?"

"I'll become Gandara's first human enchanter in a year."

For once, Hiei was speechless, as was I.

Yusuke, however, never appeared at a loss for words. "Yer aff yer heid!" He guffawed, ornaments clacking as he shook his head. "Didn't you hear what fox boy _just said_? You're–"

"I said I'm gonna do it, didn't I? Once Kazuma Kuwabara commits to something, he always follows through!" Kuwabara's stature did not wilt under my scrutiny; no matter how long I stared, the fire in his eyes refused to die. "All I'm asking for is a chance, your Majesty. That's all I want."

He bore his resolve for all to see. Wearing his heart on his sleeve, face an open book – he'd been this way for as long as I'd known him. Every argument quelled beneath that determination, the unspoken plea–

His petition for trust.

"Very well."

Hiei raised a silent brow even as nonsense syllables spewed from Yusuke's mouth. "Kurama, you can't be–"

"I'm very serious, Yusuke." Kuwabara's expression shifted back to one of stunned wonder and I smiled at him, a true smile. "You have one year to become the crown prince's personal enchanter, Kuwabara. I will help you however I can but the majority of the work will rest upon you." His lips parted, though no sound left them. "Do not fail me."

That single command broke his stupor and he fell to one knee, pressing his forehead to my hand. Despite his steady grip, I felt his tears on my fingers. "Yes, your Highness."

"Well, well, what have we here?"

Father's voice rang through the commotion clear as a bell. Bright-throated tulips and proud gladiolas stems leaped in their beds, fronds reaching for their king. Father stood less than ten meters away, flanked by Yana, Kaito, Asato, and Suzaku. Sightless gaze fixed in my direction, his hand remained extended to Hokushin, though the latter showed no inclination of taking it. Yusuke's personal guard took much the same stance as their Gandaran counterparts around the Hornless Oni, each staring at their selected knight, staves in-hand.

What had happened?

"Father." I conceded with a bow, watching Yusuke dip his head from the corner of my eye. Kuwabara did a swift about-face in the dirt, the metal of his knee guard screeching as he knelt before his king. Though whispering cloth betrayed his bow I knew without looking that Hiei's eyes were open, watching all with well-veiled suspicion.

So, he sensed it as well.

At last, father dropped his hand and turned to face us, smile receding to a ghost of its former glory. "It appears one of Tourin's diviners has brought ill tidings."

Hokushin's grip on his staff tightened, only the subtle creaking of wood giving him away. The other Oni maintained their stances, grimaces hard as stone. I watched father's knights debate reaching for their own weapons, faces smooth willow bark.

Yusuke stepped towards his guardian without giving my people a second glance, all hints of mirth gone . "What's happened?"

Hokushin bowed his head, bare scalp gleaming red. "Two more, Lord Yusuke."

Suddenly, all color washed from Yusuke's face and he swallowed, squeezing both eyes shut. "Where?"

"Just outside the Wake, in the village of Dunbar. They disappeared from within Tourin's borders."

The Wake – the crevice and surrounding territory which served as a border between the two kingdoms. A remnant of the Dragon's War, the Wake formed when Mihtig Estmere – the last of the dragon generals – carved the ground with his own body, shot down by arrows and Oni enchantments. Though the allies won the decisive battle, Mihtig made a point of taking both armies with him, Tourite and Gandaran alike plummeting to their deaths in a gash deep as a mountain. Thus, graced with sloping hills and fertile pastureland, neither Tourin nor Gandara made a move to claim it because the site was viewed as a mass burial ground:

Hence the name, 'The Wake'.

Yusuke took one breath, then another, still hiding behind sheathed lids. "And dad?"

"King Raizen was in his palace at the time: he has not left Áit Shábháilte for several days."

Finally, Yusuke opened his eyes, molten brown lit with burning fury. Lips twisted in an angry scowl, he appeared every bit the savage prince he was. "Your source?"

"Takenada of the Manchura clan." Hokushin ground his jaw once again, voice little more than a growl. "He can be trusted."

Yusuke clucked his tongue, thrusting a hand in his plaid. "I know that!" One thought after another flitted across his face until finally he withdrew his hand and placed it on the older Oni's head, thumb and pinkie resting against either temple. "Tell Takenada to keep his eyes open, to alert us if anything looks even _remotely_ suspicious." He chewed his inner cheek, fang shining. "We gotta stop this while it's still in the Lowlands."

Hokushin closed his eyes, submitting to his prince's command without hesitation. When Yusuke removed his hand, the Oni rose to his full height and nodded to one of his companions, who dismissed himself promptly.

For a time, no one dared speak. Yusuke's fingers curled into fists several times, each instance more pronounced than the last. Momentarily, I feared he would strike the nearest possible target–

The ire curling his lips did nothing to dissuade that sentiment.

Thankfully, father chose then to speak. "It's a fine day, too fine to worry over what we can do nothing about." He smiled then, decisively trimming away the still-lingering tension. "Shall we?"

Almond breathed fresh sighs as I sat at the throne to father's left, knowing bark pulling imaginary wrinkles from my tunic and trousers. How the tree managed this without snagging the cloth was beyond me.

"Welcome, honored friends, esteemed guests!"

Father's voice interrupted the chatter scattered throughout the stands and sidelines, calling all attention to himself. Adorned in fine green, Gandara's king outstretched his arms as if to embrace everyone present, a warm smile adorning his face. He wore no gold or silver, nor did festive bells hang from his belt. No, the only finery father bore were his silken garments, as well as the ancient crown formed from the Diviega.

My father lived by the words of his father, that a true king need not flaunt his kingship with unnecessary finery.

"We thank you for attending the festivities, and offer this as a small token of our appreciation."

Muted murmurs from the Oni, quickly silenced by a glare from my cousin. Forcing myself to relax against stout branches, a softened sigh escaped and I glanced down, noting the barely audible humming of wood. A dark crown sat proudly on the remaining throne, indiscriminate placeholder for the Tourrite prince.

Yusuke stood before his people on their side of the arena, watching father with head held high. Thick red paint arched across his forehead, ran down the bridge of his nose to straddle his chin in so many bloody streams. These lines rode atop a ghastly white sea, blurring every distinguishing feature from his and all other horned heads. In fact, only Yusuke's hair set him apart from his countrymen, wild raven locks confined by countless braids and gaudy ornaments. According to my cousin, the strict roles dictated by society ceased to exist on the battlefield: war did not differentiate between noble and the common man, so why should he?

Sometimes, I envied his simplistic view of the world.

"Unlike Gandara's traditional tournaments, this one was planned with our nephew – the Crown Prince of Tourin – in mind. Therefore, we will abide by the rules of our brethren, the Oni."

Several cheers from Yusuke's people, silenced this time by Hokushin. Armed with only his staff, he stood tall alongside his men, watching father with hard eyes. Though the Hornless were not permitted to participate in the tournament, they alone possessed the privilege of wearing black:

They alone had earned a place beside their prince.

Kuwabara stood out hopelessly among the Gandaran nobles. Aside from being the sole human, he was also the only man wearing full body armor, the rest arrayed in functional leather cuirass and other armaments. To his credit, Kuwabara bore his family's treasures well, uninhibited by the thick steel or the sweltering heat festering his brow.

Hiei mirrored Yusuke's place before the Gandarans – a position he could never hope to occupy, save acting as our champion. Though he could now hold both eyes open, his swollen face drew several glares and quite a few snickers from those at his back. Some even dared curse his presence, the folly of such filth representing the royal house–

The words melded my gut.

Hiei, however, did not react to their comments:

He never did.

"So, without further ado, we offer the proceedings to our nephew."

With this, father lowered his arms and sat down, a graceful motion defying all natural law.

"All right guys, listen up!"

If father's voice was a soothing balm, Yusuke's represented a blaring horn, sounding clear and strong well beyond the orchards. The Oni prince stepped to the center of the arena even as his people beat their chests and Hokushin pinched his nose, brow furrowed to the point I feared lasting damage was imminent. Hiei smirked while Kuwabara grinned outright; they appeared the only ones outside the stands who found humor in my cousin's antics.

"All of you know the rules already, so shut it so everyone else can hear!" The Oni laughed at this, fangs shining even as their prince cast them knowing looks over his shoulder. Yusuke glanced at those in the stands as well as those across the arena, crossing his arms. "From what I remember, tournaments in Gandara are pretty strict: no hitting below the waist, can't aim for vital spots; you have to wear protection and if you lose your weapon, the other guy automatically wins." He raised a painted brow at father. "That sound about right, Uncle?"

Father nodded, face lit in good humor.

Yusuke grinned then, transforming into something utterly impish. "See, we do things differently in Tourin."

The atmosphere suddenly grew cold as those in the stands held their breath, revulsion combining with muted wonder at the creature below. One voice in particular caught my attention and in an instant I found Shizuru seated several feet away. Cheek in hand, she watched Yusuke with a wry smile, plum satin gown pulled taut over her stomach and ample breasts. The foremost strands of hair taken together in two thick braids, she'd pinned both to the base of her skull with sunny silk flowers – gifts I'd given her years ago. Head unadorned, she paid little attention to the lady at her left, uncaring of chastisements on decorum and etiquette.

"Guess I'll start out with what's the same."

I motioned to an attendant and lifted my mouth to his ear. The boy nodded and slipped away a second later, spurred by his mission.

"No strikes to the groin or back of the knee. You can fight with an injured leg, but if your knees shot, you're dead. We also want you to be able to breed." Here a pleased smirk lit Yusuke's face. "What better way to wind down after a fight than a good rut?"

Here several Oni clamored their assent while many Gandarans glared, lips pressed tightly together. Father's smile grew while Hokushin's hand moved from his nose to cover his eyes, mouth marred in a frown.

The rustling of feathers brought my attention to our other guests. Rui and Karasu stood apart from both groups, just under the podium where we sat. Though they continually watched Yusuke, I knew the tengu's ear remained fixed on me–

Rui's smile attested to it.

"So, anywhere besides there is free game. We're not aiming for anyone to die but if you get killed for being stupid, it's your own fault." Yusuke continued, crossing burly arms over his chest. A fresh breeze caught his topmost braids, causing the copper twining to clatter against both horns. "You don't have to wear armor unless you want to, doesn't really help your chances either way."

Here he tipped his head back and tasted the air with a flick of the tongue. A satisfied smirk lit his face and he closed his eyes, the image of a sated specter.

The sound of metal-against-metal – Kuwabara's sword bumping stout plate – shattered the reverie. "Oh yeah, one more thing." Here, he cracked one eye open to peek at the Gandarans before him, a grin curling his lips. "The fight isn't over until one of you gives up or you can't go anymore. Lose your weapon? Sucks to be you."

Yusuke snorted at Kuwabara's bewilderment, his asking Hiei's validation for each rule. "What, you think your enemy'll take a take a time-out if you drop a sword or you're caught with your pants down? That's the one thing I've never understood about Gandara." He shook his head, heedless of Hokushin clearing his throat. "You treat tournaments like a spectator sport when they're the best way to train your kids for battle."

A nearly inaudible rumble in Hokushin's chest and Yusuke started, looking from his guardian to his Uncle. Father lips pulled at his cheeks though he smiled all the same, the scar marring his eyes appearing deeper somehow, more pronounced.

Immediately my cousin's gusto deflated and he rubbed the back of his head, eyes lowered in penitence. "Sorry, Uncle. I meant no disrespect."

"There is no need to apologize." Father waved his hand dismissively, an elegant ripple of cloth and flesh. "You are entitled to your opinions, Lord Yusuke, both as a man and a future King." Here, his brow furrowed even as one side of his mouth lifted – a conspiratory tilt, solely for his nephew. "What you lack is the experience to incorporate them."

Both sides breathed a collective sigh as Yusuke laughed, motioning to Hokushin with his free hand. The bald Oni barked orders in their strange tongue and several rams shuffled toward the treeline while a few lingered still – the Hornless.

"You summoned me, my lord?"

Subtle hyacinth flooded my nose and I smiled, raising my gaze. Shizuru stood just out of reach, honeyed eyes lowered to her clasped hands, though I could tell she watched me. The puffed shoulders of her dress framed her face, drawing attention to features I knew so well: a strong jaw, proud cheekbones; nose carved from the finest marble, lips dyed with rose hips at birth. Nature's finest gift, given to Gandara at no cost–

I never tired of looking upon her.

A nod and I murmured to the bark, allowing it to feed from my fingertips. "Would it please my lady to sit here?" The tree shifted between us, forming a bench of sorts as I extended my hand. "With what is to come, we are in desperate need of something lovely to look upon."

The faintest of blushes colored her cheeks and tension sang from both shoulders, yet her expression did not change. "The choice is both of your lordships, not mine."

Curling my fingers, I glanced to father, who still smiled at the activities below. There were very few things I felt strongly about in this world, yet the first time I saw her, I knew:

She was meant to be mine.

Love is a curious thing. Emotions care nothing for social matters, especially those concerning rank and that which is 'proper'. However, without feelings – or, at the very least, empathy – one cannot be a good King. Though she was not a commoner, in the eyes of society, Shizuru and I existed on separate planes. Besides, my future wife had been chosen the day I was born:

A woman I'd never met.

Shizuru's quick wit and charm held no place here, nor could her education or her family's fame change this arrangement.

While the two should not be mutually exclusive, love and being of high rank rarely coincided.

Father turned to face us then, a warm hum nudging gently from his throat. "Any descendant of Haelend is welcome here." His lips softened and he nodded, the smallest of endorsements. "Please, join us."

Shizuru curtsied before easing onto the bench, ignoring my proffered hand. Father turned his attention back to the gathered guests and I watched her through veiled lids, committing each detail to memory. Her skirts resembled unruly bedclothes as she smoothed them, each fold pooling between her fingers. A dress brimming with dark lace and ribbons, both the color and style suited her, something I imagined she fought her ladies tooth-and-nail over wearing. She would view the garment as too fine, presumptuous, even though it was nearly out-of-fashion. A delicate necklace dipped into her bodice, held in place by her bosom–

Nestled where I most wanted to be.

Clearing my throat, I motioned to the proceedings below before allowing my hand to fall away. "Have you witnessed this ceremony before, Lady Shizuru?"

"Ceremony?" She glanced from Hokushin and his men to Yusuke, who still stood alone in the middle of the arena. Great drums now sat before the former, brought by Oni who had since slipped beneath the orchard's canopy. "No, I can't say that I have."

I smiled as a young ram trotted to my cousin, handing him one of their strange piped instruments before hurrying back to join the others. "You are in for a treat, then."

Before she could question this, Yusuke took a deep breath and, lifting the white reed to his mouth, began to play.

A spirited song filled the air as the instrument's bag filled to bursting, a flurry of notes blending seamlessly in a single breath. Yusuke's eyes remained closed as he played, though his fingers never missed their targets, flying with the accuracy of an expert marksman. Goose flesh rose on the backs of my hands and the flowers clamored in their beds, banshee cries answering his song. They knew without being told what was about to transpire, each pretty throat calling for blood–

Answering a king's call to war.

I hid a smile as a handful of white clouds breached the unblemished sky, small sheep floundering in the ocean's deep. Oni spilled from the trees, beating their chests and roaring at the noontide, snarling less than polite words in their native tongue. They clustered around their prince, anger twisting the lines on their faces, bunching the white paint until they resembled vengeful spirits more than living creatures. Each raised his own question: who dared threaten their homeland, their young, their king? Where was the enemy and how did he want them to die? On and on they went, listing ghastly methods in the most colorful language.

And still Yusuke played.

A single key change and the Oni began to dance. They moved as one in a circle around their lord, each slaying a phantom opponent in battle, raising boisterous cries with each fallen foe. The Oni fought viciously: gouging, tearing limbs, ripping organs from their invisible enemies, deep-throated bellows echoing from red-rimmed mouths at each victory. The paint did them justice–

If not for its presence, it would appear they truly fought specters.

Shizuru watched on with rapt fascination, lips parted in awe. "What are they doing?"

For once, etiquette eluded her in the presence of her peers. I longed to speak to her as I would to a close friend or even a lover, though such a thing was not possible. My mouth went dry at the thought and I purposely looked away from her, from the necklace which shifted with each breath. "This is a centuries-old Oni tradition. They conduct these dances before every battle, whether they be for tournaments or war."

Her brow furrowed and she leaned forward, shifting locks giving the movement away. "But what are they _doing_?" She pressed, voice barely above a whisper.

I hid a smile with my hand as several wooden flutes joined Yusuke's and he began to dance, shifting from swaying in place to spirited steps and leaps, never missing a note. "As I mentioned, this is a ceremonial dance. While Yusuke's role is normally carried out by the king, he has every right to take on his father's – King Raizen's – duty." Spirited yells from the Oni as my cousin played faster and faster, braids flying like mad birds. "Yusuke represents the king calling his people to war and the rams respond, gathering around their leader as he plays the sacred flute."

She glanced at me then, frowning. "Sacred?"

"The bag holding the air is rumored to have been fashioned from a dragon's lung."

Shizuru's lips parted though no sound escaped. After a moment, she nodded, glancing back toward the Oni. "What of the others?"

"Rams are chosen for battle based on their ferocity, skill, and collective blood-lust. This dance is to state their case to the king, so they may bring glory to their houses." Here an elder reared his great head back and roared, seasoned horns trembling with effort. "Each one has a place in the king's army, yet their positions are chosen by the display here."

She shook her head, disbelief wrinkling her nose. "That doesn't make sense, my lord."

"To us, no; but to them it is as vital as talking to the flowers."

Whatever Shizuru intended to say died on her tongue the moment the music stopped. Every Oni head bowed in submission, ready for their orders.

Eyes still closed, Yusuke relinquished the instrument to the same ram as before. All Gandaran eyes fell on Hokushin as he and the rest of the guard stepped forward, staves held at attention. For a time, all remained silent – even the birds dared not utter a cry.

A strange rumbling in their chests – a crude mixture of grunts and crooning – and the Hornless struck the drums as one.

Each Oni swayed to the beat save Yusuke, unmoving as the mountains who sired him. Somehow, the sound grew louder in the Hornless' chests, and a few began playing an alternating beat, though Hokushin's tempo reigned supreme. Clouds completely shadowed the sun now and more were rolling in, wild white cotton tufts–

Several Hornless whispered a handful of words, a mantra known only to them. The warriors shifted at their command, moving around their prince with exaggerated steps, faces turned skyward.

Then, Hokushin began to sing:

 _Gealltanas d_ _ú_ _inn_ _á_ _r nd_ _í_ _lseacht_

 _chun na bhflaitheas._

More crooning from the remaining Hornless and the Oni clenched their fists, raising broad arms. Eyes closed, each appeared lost in his own reverie, apparitions of years past:

Dead men walking.

 _Gealltanas dúinn ár ndílseacht_

 _chun na bhflaitheas._

A whisper of wind and gray tinted first one cloud, then another, spreading like smoke until all were infected. The smallest clatter of shells heralded Yusuke's movement as he began to sway, head inclined, as though he heard something we could not.

The Hornless joined Hokushin, voices blending into a seamless whole:

 _Spéir glórmhar sheoladh_

 _riamh báisteach._

 _Seol do chabhair!_

 __The sky darkened further still, though not even the flowers dared voice what was to come. Kuwabara watched on with wide eyes while Hiei's face remained devoid of emotion, arms crossed over his chest. However, I saw the sigh as he breathed in rapidly cooling air, doubtlessly sensing the same thing as I–

A rumble of thunder brought a smirk to my cousin's lips.

 _Spéir glórmhar sheoladh_

 _riamh báisteach._

 _Seol do chabhair!_

Suddenly Yusuke stamped the ground and the warriors cried out, mimicking impaling the ground with each drum fall. The Oni prince lashed his head again and again as he danced, a maelstrom somehow contained in one insignificant body. Finally, he raised his gaze to the heavens, fangs bared in challenge at the ever-darkening sky.

 _Cuimhneamh do gealltanas!_

 _Mhionnaigh tú le mo athair_

 _An chumhacht de toirneach._

 _Ná forsake do mhac,_

 _Cuimhneamh do gealltanas!_

Another clap of sound and the skies burst, showering us with blessing. Rain pelted the ground, clutching our clothes, skin and hair with greedy fingers. Several ladies cried out for their ruined gowns though Shizuru didn't complain, enraptured by the sight before her. A murmured word and the willow tree extended a leafy branch, shielding us from the majority of the downpour. Father reclined still in his chair, unbothered by the water dripping from his nose and the scars at his eyes. Rather, his smile widened as thunder resounded once again, ear attuned to Yusuke's singing.

 _N_ _á_ _forsake do mhac,_

 _Cuimhneamh do gealltanas!_

A fresh gale swept the clearing, whipping the trees. Clap after clap of thunder sounded and still the Oni continued, lost to the beat of the drums and their wild lust. Paint fled their faces, coursing down stout necks and shoulders with abandon. Purple clouds growled at the ground, ravenous light arching like so many teeth.

Yusuke raised a sure fist and screamed:

 _Cuimhneamh do gealltanas!_

Suddenly, thunder shook the stands and lighting flashed, engulfing him in one ravenous bite.

Shizuru gasped as Yusuke fell, hand flying to her mouth. Kuwabara's shout reached my ears and I found Hiei glaring up at him, one arm forcibly keeping the knight from rushing to the fallen prince. No other Gandarans reacted to my cousin's plight though the Oni cheered, ashes crunching under their feet at the drums' frenzied pace.

After a handful of seconds passed Shizuru glanced at me, face ashen. "Shouldn't . . . shouldn't someone see to him?"

"See to him?"

"Yes! He was–" She shook her head, staring at his still form on the ground. "Just because Prince Yusuke is from Tourrin doesn't mean he's invincible." Teeth clenched, her eyes turned cold as the malicious lullaby crooned once more from the Hornless' chests. "Many have died from far less."

"But you forget what the Oni can do." My smile did not wither beneath her glare, nor did I bite back the chuckle bubbling in my throat. "Look again."

It was a well-known fact that Oni controlled the elements – a pact made with heavens long before the Dragon's War ravaged our land. The skies played to their whims, granting sunny weather or the fiercest storms as they saw fit. Only the Hornless, however, could actively call upon their aide – a practice which took centuries to master. Their ability, combined with the natural strength of the Oni, kept Tourin safe:

Though few outside of Tourrin knew the secret behind this practice.

Shizuru's eyes widened as Yusuke stirred against the charred grass, rising slowly from what should have been his deathbed. A rumble of thunder and the warriors fell before their prince

And still, the Hornless played.

Hair standing on-end, Yusuke raised his blackened right hand, flexing the appendage into a fist once, twice. The third time, blue sparks lit the air, leaping from one fingertip to the other with a dancer's precision. A slow grin spread on his lips, transforming his white, red and gray-smeared face into something utterly devilish.

Another cheer from the Oni and the dance went on.

A/N: Hello and welcome! I was hoping to hold the tournament in one chapter but Yusuke stole the show. Hopefully seeing things from Hiei's perspective – however briefly – helped make up for it.

Thank you Candid Ishida for beta reading!

Again, the language spoken by the Oni is Scottish, though the song sung by Yusuke and the Hornless is Gaelic. The lyrics and translation are below. The dance scene was inspired by Danheim's song Runatal.

Thank you to all new followers, as well as those who favorited this story and left reviews! Your readership is much appreciated.

Scottish:

Hou's it gaun – How are you doing

Yer a chancer – You're pushing your luck

Yer gettin' skelped – You're going to get slapped

Awa' an bile yer heid – Get lost

Blether – Chatter-box

Yer aff yer heid – You're crazy

Gaelic:

Gealltanas dúinn ár ndílseacht

chun na bhflaitheas.

Spéir glórmhar sheoladh

riamh báisteach.

Seol do chabhair!

Cuimhneamh do gealltanas!

Mhionnaigh tú le mo athair

An chumhacht de toirneach.

Ná forsake do mhac,

Cuimhneamh do gealltanas!

English translation:

We pledge our loyalty

to the heavens

Glorious sky ever

sending rain

Please send your help!

Remember your promise!

You swore to my father

The power of thunder.

Don't forsake your son,

Remember your promise!


	8. Emergence of Talents

_In the battle of existence, Talent is the punch;_

 _Tact is the clever footwork._

 _Wilson Mizner_

Emergence of Talents

 **Hiei's POV**

The fortitude of fools never ceased to amaze me.

Kuwabara's screams devolved to pointless jabbering and, finally, silence as he watched Yusuke rise and rejoin the dance, a fresh ram taking his place in the center of the circle. I lowered my arm, not daring to take my eyes from the Oni prince.

Hokushin's voice rose above the din of a fresh song, feeding the thunder's ego and coaxing lightning into rapid bursts. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to who entered the striking ground – ancient rams and some barely older than kids, each sacrificing their bodies freely to the elements. They fell one after another, idiotic smiles on their faces despite ruined flesh and blood leaking from their ears:

Testaments to a people who knew the price of power.

"W-what are they doing?"

I shifted my gaze to meet his, ignoring the persistent drops burning my face and neck.

Kuwabara swallowed, forcing his mouth shut as Yusuke gave a resounding cry and his people followed suit, praising the storm. "I mean . . . _how_? How can they–" His voice trailed off, for once at a loss for words.

A snort breached the air and I rolled my eyes, grimacing as the skin around the right smarted. "Don't tell me you don't know the abilities of Gandara's closest ally?"

Metal scraped metal as he shuffled, sickly shame seeping from his pores.

Lightning flashed and thunder roared, drowning out the curse bubbling in my throat. "You really are an idiot."

"Hey!" He growled, chest pressing against my shoulder blade. Even though the storm overruled most sound, Kuwabara had enough sense to keep his voice down, the whisper a husk of his normal timbre. "I'm getting really sick of your mouth, you know that?"

A lull as the Hornless reverted to their senseless crooning and I noted first his proximity, then the open disgust of those behind us, recalling the fox's plea for patience. "The Oni control the elements through a pact made with their gods long ago."

All malice fell from his face, then, brows furrowing as he asked, "Gods?"

I scoffed at the confusion held by that syllable, his blatant ignorance. "You really don't know."

"S-so what?" He hissed, anger grinding his jaw and causing both hands to ball into fists. "Just because you know something I don't, you think you're better than me? Is that it?"

Glares and muted murmurs from behind and I settled my heel on the toe of his boot, never taking my eyes from the ceremony. Kuwabara inhaled to speak again but I shifted my weight atop the thick leather, grinding until the air escaped his lungs in a rush.

When I was sure he understood to keep quiet, I released his foot, continuing as if nothing had happened. "Before Tourrin became a kingdom, the Oni clans collectively made a deal with Dagda the Good God and Lugh of the Long Arm." Kuwabara inched closer, cool metal pressing against my shoulder in a bid to hear. "Their agreement was simple – the Oni pledged fealty to both for all generations if the deities promised to protect their young and teach them to make war."

His gaze traveled back to the gruesome display, taking in the savage screams and phantom fights. "No way . . . What could _they_ need protection from?"

"Dragons."

Another clap of thunder and the Oni leaped as one, calling to their gods. Lightning laid out three Rams at once and still they laughed, fangs glinting in the fading light.

"D–" Kuwabara sucked in a breath, fighting to restrict his voice to a whisper. " _Dragons_?"

I nodded, the barest tipping of the head. Kuwabara didn't ask about the timing of this arrangement but then again, he didn't need to–

Any idiot knew the dragons fled Tourrin for Gandara in the wake of the Great War.

Finally, the Hornless ceased their singing, drumbeats fading to silence. Thick raindrops continued to fall even as the Oni froze in place, heavy limbs drooping.

Yusuke returned to the blackened circle, face clean of paint and ash. Raising his eyes to the clouds, he stared as though admiring a lover, lips slipping easily into a smile–

I'd never understood his affection for something as intangible as the sky.

" _Dul abhaile_." He whispered, heedless of his appearance.

All at once, the lightning ceased. Insistent rain tapered into a sprinkle before finally stopping, the breeze dying along with it. The Oni bowed their heads as clouds drifted away one by one, slowly allowing specks of blue to reemerge. Finally, with one last rumble of thunder, the vessels disappeared altogether, freeing the sun from her prison.

A collective sigh from the Gandarans as Yusuke breathed in the wet air, hands planted on either hip. Hokushin and his rams watched in silent submission, ready to begin the process again if their lord chose; water dripping from slick scalps and black robes, their staves remained poised, eager to make war or petition the skies at any moment. Such was their duty: the chosen ones, royal protectors and entreaters of the gods–

Such were the Hornless.

Finally, the Oni prince rolled his shoulders, neck popping as he turned to his people. "All right, you guys know what happens next: all who were struck, with me; the rest of you, go take a load off in the stands." An uproar from those not sporting blackened skin, horned heads thrashing, lips curling to reveal menacing fangs.

"Oi! You wanna question Lugh's judgment, or worse, Dagda's?" Yusuke's eyes darkened, nose wrinkling as though he'd inhaled a waste-tinted breath. When the outraged cries quieted to jilted murmurs, he smiled, tugging the horn of the nearest unsatisfied Oni – a ram just old enough to make war. "Hey, relax!" He exclaimed, throwing an arm over the boy's shoulders. "We'll beat the Gandarans at their own game, just you wait! Besides," A smirk pulled at his lips, eyes shining. "Someone has to be here to haul my bruised bahookie home."

The ram in question grinned and the rest erupted, laughter shaking the grass beneath our feet. One by one, the unchosen Oni retreated, tugging Yusuke's horns, hair or pinching his clothes as they went.

"H–" The syllable left Kuwabara's mouth in a whisper, breath hot in my ear. "How does he _do_ that?" Another quaking intake and he leaned closer, assuring none other than I could hear. "How does he always know how to satisfy them?"

I didn't bother with an answer, gaze shifting to the Gandaran side of the arena. Just below the royal stands, Karasu continued to watch Yusuke alongside his mistress, the kama a second set of wings hugging both forearms. Every so often, his eyes shifted to spy Kurama, taking in his interactions with Lady Shizuru. The fox was aware of his attentions – both hands lingered at his sleeves as well as his hair, where plaintive seeds waited – yet he never ceased his attentions toward the human woman–

He was a fool for blatantly displaying his treasure.

"All right, time to get this show on the road!" Yusuke shouted, calling everyone's attention. An assortment of twigs now rested in both fists, the wood an obscure blue not found in Gandara. "Not sure how you do this here, Uncle, but in Tourrin we set up tournaments by drawing lots."

King Yomi smiled despite the murmurs among other Gandarans, each eyeing Yusuke suspiciously.

"Here's how it goes: there's thirty one Oni here, so that means you guys have to choose thirty warriors to face them. Then, we'll each pull a stick – Gandarans on the left, Oni on the right." He shook the respective fists, glancing between the two people. "There's a number on the bottom of each lot; whoever draws your number is the one you'll fight."

"Wait a minute!" All eyes turned to Kuwabara, who now stood a respectable distance away, sun reflecting off his chest plate. "If there's thirty one of your guys, shouldn't we pick the same amount? Why would you want an uneven number?"

I bit back a groan at his outburst, resisting the urge to kick his shin.

A slender smirk lit Yusuke's face. "Because one warrior won't fight until the end."

Kuwabara blinked, mouth snapping shut. "What?"

"We decide tournaments winners through elimination: the winner of one round moves on to fight the winner of the next, one fighter remains from the bunch. But real war doesn't work that way; the enemy always saves the best guy for last." The Oni prince grinned, crossing his arms. "That's why one lot's shorter than the rest – whoever draws it gets to enter the last round fresh, to act as the enemy's secret weapon. Your opponent in war isn't going to play fair; why should a tournament be any different?"

"But that's–!"

"Don't worry, this isn't actually a war. We won't kill you." Here Yusuke thought a moment, lips curling once more. "At least, not on purpose."

 **Kurama's POV**

"I can't believe it."

The airy statement left her mouth slowly, trailing away like so much smoke. However, I dared not take my eyes from the arena, not until the winner was announced.

Mid-afternoon sunlight lit the orchard, showcasing the combatants as one fell with a resounding rumble. Kuwabara stood alone in the clearing, hair sticking to a face smeared with sweat and dirt. Sides heaving, he maintained his stance despite his opponent's state, sword tip wavering alongside trembling arms. Several dents now crowned his grandfather's armor and blood leaked through the greaves at both calf and elbow, yet even though at least one rib was broken, the fire in his eyes never wavered. Red coated the sides of the blade, perpetrator of the wounds lining the Oni's arms and abdomen. The ram's club remained clutched in his hand, the head broken off on Kuwabara's chest at the beginning of the match. Despite his comrade's commands to rise, however, the ebony-haired youth did not stir, yet his breaths remained even.

Finally, Hokushin stepped forward and shouted above the din. "Kazuma Kuwabara is the winner!"

Reserved applause from the Gandaran stands as well as a few yells from the Tourrites heralded Kuwabara's victory. For the most part, however, the crowd simply stared at the victor, this human who should not have made it past his first match–

Hiei must have been proud.

"So, what happens now?"

I turned to see Shizuru brandishing her pipe, fishing the snuff bag from a sleeve with practiced ease. She lit and filled the bowl in no time, blowing slender sprays of smoke from both nostrils. She felt no need to ask father's permission for such a thing, nor if he would care for a smoke himself. Such niceties were long behind them.

Father appeared content with giving us an air of privacy, his attention focused on Yusuke and two rams carrying their fallen comrade from the arena. "A brief recess, then the semifinal matches will commence."

Her brows furrowed and she inhaled before offering the pipe to me, green vapors spilling from her lips. "Then, baby bro's opponent will be–"

"Prince Yusuke, yes." I nodded, sucking bitter smoke from the mouthpiece inches from her fingertips. Shizuru smiled as she returned the pipe to her lips, watching my hand motion to the other side of the clearing. "And the match afterwards will put Hiei against Karasu."

"Karasu . . ."

I followed her line of sight to the man in question. Karasu watched Kuwabara stumble back to Hiei, slender hands curled at his thighs with unsettling readiness. With grace foreign even to Gandarans, he'd fought his way to the semifinals with those hands alone, winning each match in under a minute with no injuries.

The kama lay at Rui's feet, spotless and gleaming like freshly polished stones. Karasu placed them there before his first match, head bowed as he crossed the handles reverently. I could not forget his euphoria at Rui's touch, black strands weaving between her fingers as she touched his hair, her lips moving softly against his ear. Whatever she said stirred the stagnant pools of his eyes, allowing emotions I could not name to peek from violet depths:

Coincidentally, his attention remained fixed on Hiei from then on.

"I don't like him."

Shizuru's voice pierced through my musings and I started. As a noblewoman, Shizuru always hid her emotions well, never stating her opinion unless requested to do so. Mouth twisted in an unladylike fashion, she watched Karasu watch her people with pronounced distaste, pipe forgotten on the chair arm.

However, the voice answering her caught us both off-guard.

"And why is that, Lady Shizuru?" Father maintained his lax stance as he offered us a courtesy glance, scarred eyelids creasing in-time with his smile.

Shizuru sucked in a quick breath, lowering her gaze. "Forgive me, my King. I spoke out of turn–"

"No, no, you spoke correctly – a Kazuma's intuition is rarely wrong."

She swallowed and spiced embarrassment gave way to lemon-tinted curiosity, swirling scents seeping from her pores. "My lord?"

"Long ago, before Gandara became a unified kingdom, the Kazuma clan were renowned for their second sight." I offered, watching Kuwabara's procession from the corner of my eye. "They were misunderstood by many in those days, often spurned as witches or workers of evil. However, my great-grandfather revered them as seers, so they helped him unite Gandara and become our first King."

"Very good, son." Father hummed, tracing the grains of wood with one finger. "The Kazumas also believed their women retained the strongest second sight due to their connection with the Earth and the giving God." He shifted and the wood moaned, arching beneath his hand. "However, many have abandoned the old ways."

Shizuru licked her lips, hands strangling one another in her lap. I feared her heart would burst from her chest at any moment. "Do you believe such things, Lord Yomi?"

Father smiled again, mouth pulling at tanned skin. "If I did not believe it, we would not be having this conversation, would we?"

Relief swept across her face, a burst of sunshine against a clouded sky. Too soon, though, her brows furrowed and she returned her attention to the Tengu, words flowing forth without hindrance. "The flowers dread his presence, though surely my lords know this." An unconscious lifting of the pipe and she took a long drag, gaze sharp beneath shuttered lids. "Death clings to him like a second skin, though he does not appear to care. There is no morality within him: all he is remains contingent upon his mistress–"

"That is to be expected of a servant." Father's voice smoothly overrode hers, much like balm applied to an abrasion. "You sense no treachery against Gandara from him?

Shizuru faltered, mouth opening and closing twice before stating, "No, your Majesty–"

"Then leave him be." A rustle of leaves above as Father settled back into his seat, sightless eyes returning to the clearing. "Regardless of your feelings, Lady Shizuru, Hyouga is Gandara's ally. It will do us no good to procure war in a time of peace."

She fell silent at his command, pipe returning to her lips. Disappointment seeped from her rigid stance, the set of her mouth, though I dared not go against Father's word. He was right after all – sentiment had no place in dealings with political allies.

Hiei and Kuwabara continued their squabble as they began making their way towards the healer's tent, dialogue carried forth mostly by the latter. Their words did not reach us but then again, I was not focused on them.

Karasu's eyes never left Hiei though Rui continued playing with his hair, strand after strand looping around childish fingers. More words passed from her lips in their native tongue but he remained unmoved, intent on his subject. I had no doubt Hiei was aware of the Tengu's attentions but he ignored him, not even bothering to glance this way. Still, Karasu waited, silent breaths fogging the folds of his mask.

I leaned over, a single word prompting a seed to sprout and bloom in my palm. Hand pushing a flower into Shizuru's hair, I pressed my mouth to her ear breathing in peony as I whispered "Whatever you do, do not look into his eyes."

She glanced at my hand but said nothing, body now rigid for an entirely different reason. The feel of her hair between my fingers, the blush tinting her cheeks, candied embarrassment mixing with something heady, something dark–

It was almost enough to make me forget.

Suddenly, the hairs at my nape stood on end and I turned my gaze back to the arena. Karasu watched us with the same strange dissonance as before, eyes somehow bold yet unfeeling. His glance hinted at the substance of nightmares – a world in which only gray and the basest of instincts remain. I could not afford to lose myself in that world–

Not again.

"My lord?"

Shizuru's hand was cool against mine, gentle in removing my fingers. Only then did I realize I'd pulled her hair into a tight fist, a grip strong enough to make my knuckles ache. "Shizuru! I'm–"

"No, thank you for the gift." She said, her smile tight as she refocused her attention on our guest. Karasu held her gaze for only a moment but I noted the tightness around his eyes, the nearly indistinguishable voraciousness with which he watched her:

Did his eyes have no effect on her?

Was this the power of a Kuwabara?

 **Hiei's POV**

"What do you mean I'm lucky to be alive?!"

"Are you deaf as well as dumb?" I ground out, keeping my back to the tent's entrance. Oni and Gandaran voices rose and fell with the breeze, pulsing in time with the trees' moaning. Sickly-sweet blood crept from the canvas folds, as well as the stench of overworked bodies–

Both made the mark on my arm itch.

"You should be grateful that you still draw breath."

King Yomi kept his face towards the empty arena, fingers idly tracing wood grains. Ever the peace-keeper, he played his role well; hiding beneath the visage of a crippled monarch. Some of the younger rams prattled on about our king, forcing the age-old joke of the blind leading the blind. Let the fools think what they wanted.

Unlike in Tourrin, our kings did not stay in power through sympathy.

A murmur from a feminine throat and the flowers responded, filling the tent with pale light. Kuwabara's hiss drew my attention and I ducked into the enclosure, ignoring the enchantress' pointed glare. Gauntlets, vambraces, chain mail and dented breastplate at his side, he clung to his tunic, murmuring apologies to the woman.

"I'm sorry, miss; I just . . . can't."

The earrings dangling from elongated ears clattered as she tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "My power works through direct touch, lord Kuwabara." She spoke carefully, each word crisp, deliberate. Hands rolling up his long sleeves, she held first one forearm then the other in a gentle grip, palms glowing green. "You broke a few ribs during your last fight, correct?" His cheeks shone crimson, deepening in color as her hands traveled up. "If even one of them pierces your lungs–"

"I-I'll be alright, thank you!" He stammered, scuttling away from her. Only when his back was to the support post did he stop, though his breaths were labored now, proving the woman's point. "Please, you've done more than enough. I'll be fine."

Before she could respond, Kuwabara had donned his chainmail and, after gathering his remaining armament, stepped outside.

I followed, taking my place between Kuwabara and the stands. Several whispers reached my ears, all from Gandaran throats, all muttering about the human who dared make it this far in the competition.

"You should have let her heal you."

"And sully a maiden's honor? No way!" He growled, tightening the straps securing his vambraces. "A woman shouldn't see a man's body til her wedding night!"

I snorted, glancing back at the stands. Familiar faces rested there, arrayed in embellished finery and hideous paint. Most kept their attention elsewhere, talking with overattentive neighbors or staring openly at Yusuke's people. The occasional set of knowing eyes didn't escape me, though, nor did the lust hidden in their gaze.

A woman shouldn't see a man's body–

What a delusion.

"Hey, look!"

Kuwabara's voice pulled me from them and I sighed, following his gaze. Lady Shizuru sat at Kurama's side still, though the fox now whispered in her hair, tucking a flower behind her ear. The eldest Kuwabara said nothing though pink warmed her cheeks as she murmured a reply, lips curling in a smile.

"Heh," Kuwabara grinned, refastening the scabbard to his belt. "So the prince has the hots for sis?"

King Yomi did not acknowledge their wooing, though one observer watched on without shame. Karasu stood tall at his mistress' side, holding Kurama's gaze without blinking. Gradually, the fox's eyes lost their shine, growing muddled as he lost himself in the Tengu's power–

Just like before.

Swallowing a curse, I braced myself to run to his side. "That idiot–!"

Lady Shizuru acted then, long fingers curling around Kurama's without hesitation. Just like that, the spell was broken and he returned to himself, expression shifting from vacant to horrified as he stared at their intertwined hands. She shook her head at his words, smiling still, though her eyes never left Karasu's.

"W-what's wrong?" Kuwabara demanded, trepidation weighing his tongue. "She's allowed to be there, right? The prince–"

"The prince is a fool." I spat, forcing both hands away from my sword grips. Kurama was acting irrationally: rather than conceal her, he'd brought his treasure into the open, displaying his weakness for all to see. Gems were meant to remain inside vaults, safely tucked away from prying eyes and greedy hands–

Why couldn't he understand that?

Suddenly Kuwabara stiffened, hand rising slowly to his blade. Karasu watched us with the same detached look from before, violet pools pulling despite the distance. Before I knew it, millions of black feathers filled the sky, blocking the sun and leaving me alone.

 _Countless women found me in the darkness, women with pale skin and hungry eyes. Hot hands raked my body, nails leaving cruel trails in their wake. Bed clothes strangled my wrists and ankles, slender fingers silencing screams while the bell chimed._

"Hey."

 _She appeared then, tiny feet approaching without a sound. Blue robes splattered with blood, she smiled for me even as red continued to dye her face, her hands, her hair, tears slipping down both cheeks. Please, please don't cry like that–_

 _It was all my fault._

"Hey!"

 _The feathers parted and she screamed, falling into the black. I reached for her hand, a flailing thing just out of reach. Fear choked my throat, stole my voice, roared in my ears. They were coming to take her away, somewhere beyond my reach._

 _It was all my fault._

"Shorty!"

 _But they couldn't have her. I wouldn't let them._

 _They couldn't have her because she was my–_

"Hiei!"

A rough hand on my shoulder and I snarled, glancing up. Kuwabara held Karasu's gaze without hesitation, maintaining the grip on his sword.Mouth set, the human glared at the Tengu, heedless of the sweat dotting his brow and that he'd yet to let me go.

Without warning, Rui placed her hand on Karasu's arm and he looked away, attention focused on his mistress.

I shrugged off Kuwabara's hand, retreating a pace. The knight watched them a moment longer before turning to face me. "You alright?"

Rather than justify him with an answer, I frowned, glaring at him. "How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Don't play me for a fool!" I hissed, drawing closer. "How did you break the Tengu's power? I thought you knew nothing of it."

"Oh, that." Kuwabara sighed, gloved hand rubbing the back of his neck. "It's, uh, something my grandma showed us a long time ago." I raised an eyebrow. "When someone's having a bad dream, you can stop it by touching them and imagine you're replacing the bad thoughts with good ones. They can be about anything: flowers, hunting, even sweet meats; as long as it's a good thought to you, the bad ones go away." He bit his inner cheek, brows furrowing. "When that guy looked at you, you acted like you were having a nightmare. You didn't say anything, but your eyes got really big and you looked, I don't know, scared?"

I snorted but remained silent, willing the images to stay at-bay.

"So I did what Granny said. Took a little while, but it worked."

The ability to dispel nightmares–

Was that what Lady Shizuru had done?

"Just don't let your guard down." I snapped, walking towards the arena.

"Hey!" He called, armor clanging as he hurried after. "You could at least say thank you–"

"Kuwabara." I cast him a sideways glance, heedless of who was watching. "What is a knight's primary duty?"

"Uh," He stammered, nose wrinkling. "To . . . to protect the lord who hires him–"

"To protect the Crown." I ground out, glaring. "Especially in your case. Out of all the knights in Gandara, the Prince chose _you_ to be at his side."

He fidgeted, greaves whining. "Yeah, I still don't know why, though."

"You don't need to."Movement on the Tourrite side of the clearing; the next match would start soon. "All you need to know is that you are the first person Prince Kurama allowed at his side of his own free will. Remember that."

"B-but you've been with him since you were kids–"

"A child cannot make his decisions any more than the seasons can – both are fixed by a higher power."

Before he could respond, the drums sounded and the Hokushin's men began to sing, calling both fighters to the arena.

Kuwabara straightened as Yusuke emerged from the throng, answering a countryman's insult in his native tongue and slinging a war club across one shoulder. Obviously made for someone twice his size, the Oni prince handled the stone weapon with ease, unmoved by the sunlight glinting off of jagged metal tips. Despite the club towering over him, he smiled at Kuwabara, a grin showing every tooth in his head.

"Don't let his bearing fool you." I instructed as the fool relaxed slightly. "Yusuke has not maintained his position through bravado and the people's approval – Tourrin's court is far more unforgiving than Gandara's."

Kuwabara faltered, gripping his leather belt. "You think I'd throw the match because I like the guy? Get real, shorty." The smirk fell from his face and he stepped forward, helm forgotten at my feet. "I've got too much riding on this."

The Oni's song and incessant cheers echoed through the orchard as they reached the clearing's center, though Yusuke smiled despite Kuwabara's forced neutrality.

"Gie it laldy!"

"Batter the bampot!"

"Ah, shut ye geggie!" Yusuke snarked, planting the head of his club in the earth with a resounding thud. Shouldering out of his plaid, Yusuke lifted his mane so the empty garment could fall down his back, strapped to him only by the thick cord at his waist. Ignoring the women staring at his bare torso, he rolled first his shoulders then his neck, sighing with each satisfying 'pop'.

"H-hold on!" Kuwabara stammered, staring first at Yusuke's chest then the simple trousers he wore. "You're really going to fight like that?"

"What, thinking about quitting already?" Yusuke smirked, flipping a stray braid across one shoulder. "Don't be such a big girl's blouse! Though if you don't think you can win, you could always forfeit–"

"That's not what I meant!" The human growled, flailing hand accentuating his opponent's body. "You . . . you're not going to protect yourself at all?"

Yusuke looked down then, staring first at his bare feet before fingering the material of his trousers and discarded plaid, confusion pinching both brows. Only when the wind shifted and the sun hit Kuwabara's armor did realization hit and he grinned. "Nah, don't need to." A wink and he re-shouldered his club, rolling his neck one more time as Hokushin entered the space. "You won't be able to hit me, so what does it matter?"

Red dusted Kuwabara's cheeks and he fell silent, gaze roving from his thick boots to the dented breastplate. I watched the gears turn in his brain, frown deepening with each tick.

No; surely he wasn't _that_ big of a fool.

Just as Hokushin opened his mouth, he knelt and tore off the shoes, working the straps at his calves.

"Oi!" Yusuke cocked his head, watching the Kuwabara remove the armor one piece at a time. "What do you think you're doing?"

"It's against my code to fight someone on unequal terms." He replied quietly, working at the fauld, breastplate and pauldrons before moving to the metal at his arms. "If you're not willing to wear something to protect yourself, then I won't either."

Hokushin watched on as Yusuke blinked. "Are you stupid?" He ground out as Kuwabara allowed the gorget to fall at his feet. "Don't you know what I can do to–"

"Doesn't matter." Kuwabara cut him off, pulling the mail shirt over his head. "Doesn't matter how strong you are or if you think you need armor or not. I can't fight someone who's defenseless – I wouldn't be a man if I did." Yusuke's brows rose as he stepped away from the discarded relics, garbed in only a navy blue tunic and thick trousers. "Sorry but there are ladies present." Kuwabara said, refastening the sword at his waist before stepping across from his opponent. "This is the best I can do."

I bit back a groan as Yusuke continued to stare, glancing between the armor and the human's back. Did he _want_ to die? Had he not watched the matches before now?

Suddenly, Yusuke let loose a bark of laughter, ornaments clattering as he shook his head. "Man, you're either an idiot or mental! I like that, though." Another grin and he lowered himself into a crouch, club head hovering inches above the ground. "Makes it more fun."

Kuwabara smirked and took up a fighting stance, one leg sliding back as he drew his sword.

"Fighters, ready?" Hokushin called, gaze traveling from his lord to the knight while raising his left arm. I could hear Kuwabara's heart hammering over the drums, though anxiety never registered on his face. Rather, he bared his teeth at Yusuke, lips curled into a satisfied smirk. Unprecedented honor, the purposeful removal of self-preservation–

This was his idea of manhood?

"Begin!"

Yusuke charged as soon as Hokushin's hand slapped his thigh, bellowing a wild cry. Kuwabara stiffened at the sound but otherwise didn't move, following the Oni with his eyes.

Only when Yusuke swung his club did he react, planting both feet and raising his blade in a high block. Kuwabara ground his jaw as stone met steel though he held his ground, stopping the strike at the highest point and maintaining control.

So, the fool paid attention during training after all.

Yusuke opened his mouth wide and leaped back, another whoop bursting forth as he charged again. Kuwabara somehow managed to parry one strike after another, though each hit drove him closer to the arena's edge. Sweat sagged at his hair, clung to his hands and tunic, squeezed the breath from his lungs.

At this rate, wouldn't last long.

Another parry and rather than retreat, Yusuke delivered a swift kick, sending the human flat on his back. The Oni cheered as their prince stood over his opponent, foot planted on Kuwabara's chest even as he leaned on his club.

"We gonna dance all day, or is that all you've got?" Yusuke grinned, leaning forward while shifting more and more weight onto his foot. "Don't tell me you going on and on about restoring your family's honor was just talk?"

I saw the spark as it entered Kuwabara's eyes, watched with veiled satisfaction as he rolled back onto his shoulders, unsettling Yusuke's balance long enough to wrap his legs around him and force him to the ground.

What ensued was nothing less than a brawl. Weapons forgotten, Yusuke and Kuwabara tussled for the better part of five minutes, each vying for dominance. Teeth, nails, hands, feet, anything and everything was a weapon. No sooner would Yusuke rise to the top than Kuwabara would meet him with a swift strike or headbutt, forcing him back to the grass. The same held true for when Kuwabara gained the advantage. Blood and scraps of cloth littered the ground and still the fools continued, urged on by the crowd and their own spirited insults.

After delivering several punches, Yusuke stood, believing he'd won the match. As soon as he stepped away from his opponent, however, Kuwabara grabbed two fistfuls of braids, throwing him to the ground with a boisterous yell.

Muttering a curse, Yusuke rose to his feet, spitting toward the stands. Covered in bruises, blood and cuts, both fighters appeared near exhaustion, though neither showed any sign of stopping. Yusuke flexed his hand, popping knuckles as Kuwabara clung to the sad remnants of his tunic, never breaking eye contact.

All at once, Yusuke glanced down at his hand and smirked, a single fang peeking over his bottom lip. "Say Kuwabara, care to make a little wager?"

I could hear the human's labored breathing from here; he wouldn't last much longer. "Is . . . Isn't a prince not supposed to gamble?"

"Nah, it's fine so long as you don't bet the treasury." He panted, eyes glinting. "How about this – we put everything we have into one last punch. If you win, I'll accept you as my brother – you'll be recognized as a citizen of both Gandara and Tourrin."

Several Oni objected to this, hurling jeers and insults at both competitors. Even Hokushin appeared taken aback by Yusuke's proposal, though he made no move to stop him. How much power did the prince of Tourrin possess?

Kuwabara's jaw dropped though he quickly regained focus, brows knit in concentration. "What about if you win?"

"If I win?" He paused for a moment, trying to seem deep in thought, though I knew better. The tapping of his foot, how he swayed ever so slightly from left to right – we'd played this game since we were children.

Yusuke made his decision before the match started.

"If I win . . ." He grinned, pointing with his chin. "I get that hackit blade over there."

The fool's eyes widened exponentially and he slipped out of his fighting stance, taking a step toward Yusuke. "Y-you can't take that! That belonged to my grandfather–"

"What, you planning on losing?"

"In your dreams, Urameshi!"

Another smirk and lightning began to circle Yusuke's fist, arching whenever it touched skin. "Then you have nothing to worry about."

Kuwabara considered his opponent for a few moments, gaze fixated on the sparks. He wouldn't do it; surely he wasn't that big of a–

"Alright."

A outraged cry from a female throat and Yusuke grinned savagely, willing more lightning into his hand. "On the count of three, then. One."

"Kazuma!"

Kuwabara balled his right hand into a fist so tightly his arm trembled, though fear never once entered his eyes.

"Two."

"Kazuma, wait!" Shizuru screamed but it was too late. They couldn't back out now–

Their honor wouldn't allow it.

"Three!"

 **Kurama's POV**

"Kazuma!"

Shizuru's scream rang through the stands as both her brother and Yusuke fell; only my arm at her waist stopped her from sprinting to Kuwabara's side. She fought my grip even as Hokushin checked on them, ignoring what comfort I could offer. Both Yusuke and Kuwabara were fine–

Hiei's demeanor attested as much.

"Get up, Kazuma!"

Neither fighter stirred. Against all odds, they'd struck one another simultaneously, well-aimed blows finding their targets easily. Burns and charred skin marred Kuwabara's cheek, jaw and eye; even now, the edge of one bronze brow sizzled. Yusuke's nose had tripled in size almost immediately after he hit the ground, cartilage shattered and unmistakably misshapen. Blood leaked from his nostrils and Kuwabara's mouth, the whites gleaming from both of their eyes.

Needless to say, they would not be waking anytime soon.

Shizuru refused to sit until Hokushin declared the match a draw by knock out and exited the arena, escorting both fighters to the medical tent. Even after they'd gone, she maintained her silence, brow knit with worry.

Even with the crisis past, she refused to look at me.

"Young Kazuma fought well." Father spoke, pulling her from her thoughts. At the Lady's glance he smiled, the gesture warm, genuine. "To hold one's own against a prince is no easy feat. However, we would expect no less from a Kuwabara."

Shizuru bowed her head, hands clasped in her lap. "It is an honor to fight for the Crown, my King."

"No, the honor is ours that you would still fight for us after all this time." Father reached out, bark whispering as he placed a hand on her head. "Your father and grandfather would be proud."

Her breath hitched though she hid the emotion with care, closing both eyes. "Thank you, your Majesty."

"Father." I interjected as Shizuru straightened and his hand fell away, twining branches clinging to his sleeve. Karasu and Hiei stood in the arena already, awaiting Hokushin's return. "Perhaps I should fight in Hiei's place."

He raised a single brow though his smile never faltered, scars creasing with the motion. "Why, my son?"

Shizuru glanced my way as well and I willed my breathing to slow, to forget those violent, violet eyes. "Something is amiss, though I am not sure what. Hiei has been behaving oddly since Lady Rui and Karasu's arrival. He may be ill–"

"Or he may be taken with the Lady – Koorime are known for their beauty, after all."

Memories of the night before came swiftly, Rui's demanding Hiei for her bed and my companion's utter repulsion at the request. "No, my lord, that's not–"

"Kurama." I didn't hear my name often on his tongue and normally, I enjoyed the sound. Now was not one of those times. "Have either of our guests done anything to make you believe they are conspiring against Gandara?" Father's smile fell away at this. "If so, I will halt the tournament and listen to you without interruption."

Shizuru's eyes widened and she turned to face me as well, pipe forgotten on the platform railing.

I ground my jaw, once again revisiting the conversation with Rui the night before. However, no matter how her insults toward Hiei stung, nothing she'd said could be taken as a threat against my country.

Father nodded at my silence, resting his back once more against sure wood. "Then we shall speak of it no more."

For a moment, I thought of arguing with him, to try to make him understand. However, a certain hardness had entered father's face, notable only by the firmness of his lips and minuscule creases along both eyelids.

Shizuru chose that moment to speak. "A question, King Yomi."

His smile deepened, mouth pliable once more as he nodded. "Of course. Speak, Lady Shizuru."

She bowed her head, eyes drifting back to the arena. "My lords used the term 'tengu' when referring to Lady Rui's servant."

"Yes." Father replied, raising a brow. "What of it?"

Tongue running across plush lips, she pressed. "What is a Tengu, your Majesty? I have never heard of such a creature."

"No, we would be most surprised if you had, given your youth." Father chuckled, humor warming his voice. "Even Prince Kurama has seen them only through texts."

I frowned as a light chiming sounded, focus shifting once more to the combatants. Hiei stood with his back to us, arms crossed, posture perfect despite the match's delay. A sword at either hip, the majority of his weight rested on the ball of his right foot, the heel of which hung in the air ready, waiting.

His opponent stood nearly twenty feet opposite him, feather-hair drifting on the breeze. Cloak forgotten at his mistress' side, Karasu's garments clung to his limbs like a second skin, cotton tied to both wrists and ankles by leather thongs. Alabaster skin luminous against the fox fur trimming his chest, he watched Hiei without blinking, mask nearly hiding the collar at his throat. His hands held the kama in a loose grip, handles boasting a foot or so of cold chain. Both watched the other with rapt attention, focus never wavering despite the restless Oni.

Both garbed in black, much like bringers of death.

"Tengu hail from Tourrin, though several centuries have passed since they graced the skies of their homeland." Father said, heedless of Shizuru's sharp inhale. "Like most creatures of the air, they sided with our enemies during the Dragon's War, killing their own countrymen as well as our people. Naturally, when the dragons were banished the Tengu joined them, knowing death awaited if they stayed among the Oni. Karasu is the first Tengu we have seen since that time."

A chilling thought gripped my gut. "Father, surely you're not suggesting–"

"No. While Karasu is definitely a tengu, he is much too young to have participated in that war – his kind does not age as ours does." Another chuckle. "In fact, he appears to only be a little older than you, son."

This caused me to look again. True, no marks lined Karasu's face – nothing to hint at advanced age or extreme youth – yet his lack of presence, precise movements and perfect control spoke of experience I could only dream of. These combined with the blood-lust seeping from his pores turned my stomach and my thoughts immediately shifted to Hiei.

"He won't win."

Shizuru's words were soft yet firm, underlain by that knowing she'd always possessed. Her intuitions rarely proved false, yet I couldn't help but wish otherwise this time. "How do you mean?"

Lifting the pipe from the branch before her, Shizuru took her time stuffing the bowl, only speaking once a satisfactory plume of smoke filled her lungs. "Hiei wants this too much – you can see it in his eyes." Another delicate drag, tainted smoke accentuating her every word. "He can't beat Karasu like that."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Are you suggesting his opponent has no desire to win?"

"Not at all, my lord." The title flowed easily from her lips, heating my blood in a way not altogether unpleasant. "Much like a knight's duty to his king, a servant lives only to serve his master. Karasu's fealty to Lady Rui is unquestionable; he exists for her alone. If she asked him for the sun, he would die trying to obtain it for her." Another inhale and sweet tobacco coated my tongue, purple liquid dotting her lips. "Those of Hyouga take servitude to a level unlike any I've ever seen."

My companion remained unmoved by our conversation, though I had no doubt he heard every word. One trait I admired most about Hiei was his refusal to judge an opponent's strength based on appearance or hearsay. In fact, Hiei'd watched each match of the tournament with care, doubtlessly noting every combatant's strengths and weaknesses. However, before now the tengu had yet to use his weapons, defeating every opponent with only his hands.

How would Hiei handle this?

 **Hiei's POV**

The Hornless took his time telling everyone the fools' fate, an outcome which should have been obvious. If a minor battle was enough to impede an Oni prince, Tourrin had bigger problems than a crazed king; and if a bump on the head killed Kuwabara–

He didn't deserve to be a knight.

Both Kurama and Lady Shizuru relaxed visibly, though King Yomi remained unmoved by Hokushin's words, as if there could be no other outcome. The crow watched on with the same listless look, curved blades reflecting the shadow of his wings. His stance never changed, despite the perspiration dotting his chest and forehead, the stench of sex clinging to his skin. The fox was naive to believe the seer's words:

She knew nothing of Tengu.

"Karasu."

The Koorime's voice arrested him, feathers fluttering as he met her gaze. Though she held his cloak in her hands, Rui's attention never left me once Hokushin came to stand between us, an all-too-familiar coldness glazing her eyes.

"Gerir hann meiða."

My body acted without my permission: one brow twitched, breath catching in my throat, fingers inching towards both blades. I stifled the emotion quickly but she saw it anyway; that much was evident in her smile–

I would not tolerate such weakness.

The crow bowed his head, hair parting at the nape of his neck as he showed her reverence. Flesh decimated by scratches, finger-bruises and love bites, bordered the collar at his throat, each telling his true role. The mighty Tengu, proud cloud-riders brought down by a few weak women.

Honestly, it'd only been a matter of time.

Rui nodded, dismissing him with a flick of the wrist. "Fara."

His bow deepened before he raised his head, gaze shifting slowly back to me. Hokushin watched him as well, keeping his anger at bay behind a well-placed facade. While he would have been little more than a child, the Hornless was old enough to remember when Tengu occupied Tourrin: how they defended the kingdom from mountain fortresses, slaughtered countless Gandarans during the Dark Days–

Abandoned their homeland when they were needed most.

Still, the old one held his emotions in-check, not allowing sentimentality or avarice free reign. Instead, he looked first to the crow, then to me, a single question on his lips. "Are both fighters ready?"

Silence fell and I shifted one leg back, arms crossing to grip my swords. Right heel lifted, I sank down, bringing the blades into a ready stance. Karasu did not move, grip relaxed as ever on the kama as he watched me. Though now something shifted in his eyes.

Something dangerous.

Lifting one arm, Hokushin observed both of us for a moment before slapping his hand against his thigh, bellowing, "Begin!"

I tensed, anticipating a strike that never came. The crow watched with the same lack of passion though slowly, surely, the kama began to move. At first I thought it was a trick of the wind but he soon proved me wrong, fingers shifting with sparse, barely perceptible movements. Each kama tipped back and forth slowly, riding atop the breeze like steel birds. Though Oni controlled lightning through a pact with their gods, the Tengu had always commanded the wind, knew its strange tongue from birth–

I cursed my carelessness.

Yusuke's voice joined the throng as I sprang forth, hoping to catch him before the kama reached full range of motion; but it was too late. Both blades met empty air, refusing to slice even trailing locks as he crouched, ducking beneath my guard. Before I knew it his scythe brushed aside my swords, slicing into both stomach and shoulder with ease.

Snarling, I leaped back, pushing the pain to the back of my mind. Karasu stood in the same spot still, lifting one of the scythes to eye level. He admired my blood on his blade, tested it with one finger, chilling violet creeping back to me. Pressing an arm against my abdomen, I bared my teeth at him, allowing a growl to bubble forth.

Another breeze, a fresh word from a feminine throat, and he advanced with speed rivaling my own, blades twirling between deft fingers.

Even knowing how his weapons worked, anticipating his attacks was nearly impossible. For every hit I landed he extracted three more, thin blades slicing at my chest, neck, and arms. A stab of pain at my hip and I cursed again, leaping away from him. I had to put distance between us, buy time to formulate a plan. There had to be a way–

A whistle of wind and I stopped, following the crowd's gaze upward. Karasu hovered several feet above, wings flapping every so often to keep him afloat. The black monstrosities blocked the sun from view, hair twisting around his head like a sadistic halo even as the kama continued spinning. Blood clung to his blades, dripped from my limbs with abandon; even though my hits rang true, I couldn't quench the anger rising in my gut. That blank stare; his unchanging calm, despite the wounds dotting his torso and legs–

He was toying with me.

"Hiei!"

He wasn't even _trying_.

"Hiei, don't!"

The fox's words reached even here but still the rage came, begging me to decimate my opponent:

To make him _bleed_.

Suddenly, pain struck my right arm, fiery needles hitting every nerve, artery and blood vessel. I screamed as the ink constricted, red eyes glaring from a clenched fist. The burning intensified as the dragon opened its mouth, engulfing the limb in dark flames.

 _Make him bleed._

The crow's eyes widened at its growl, another scream ripping through as I leaped for him. Swords forgotten, I caught his kama with my bare hands, uncaring of the blades slicing through flesh. Another growl and I lunged for his throat, jaws snapping empty air twice. The third time his wings thrust him back and suddenly his foot connected with my chest, well-aimed kick taking my breath. Purple flames flowed through my veins all the way down, stifling the will to fight, the ability to think–

Just like before.

When I came back to myself he towered over me, blade pressed beneath my chin, cold gaze demanding I accept defeat. The fire reached my brain and I snarled, fingers popping as claws burst from aching cuticles, begging to tear him apart.

Karasu watched a moment longer, something bordering disgust swimming in those stagnant eyes.

A stray feather filled my vision before the flames burned everything black.

A/N: Hello again! Know it's been a while but hopefully the length made up for the wait! Enjoyed this chapter for multiple reason – namely a certain tengu and uninhibited shenanigans – but can't wait to hear what you guys think!

For those who don't know, kama are Japanese hand scythes, and the language Rui speaks is Icelandic.

Big thank you to Candid Ishida for beta reading!

So, two very different matches and the tournament still isn't over! Who will come out on top? Read on to find out!

Dagda – Scottish god associated with fertility, agriculture, weather and masculine strength.

Lugh – Scottish god of the sun; also associated with thunderstorms.

Dul abhaile – go home

Bahookie – bum

Gie it laldy – do something with gusto

Batter the bampot – beat the idiot

Shut ye geggie – shut up

Don't be such a big girl's blouse – don't be such a whimp

Hackit – ugly

Gerir hann meiða – make him hurt

Fara – go


	9. Sciamachy

_The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind_

 _is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of_

 _fear is fear of the unknown._

– _H.P. Lovecraft_

Sciamachy

 **Kurama's POV**

Initially, all appeared to be well.

Both combatants fought with a tenacity which entranced the audience, pulling even some of our own to their feet while the Oni's cheers rang against the trees, burly men beating their chests and the ground with heavy fists. Wrapped in a dance known to them alone, Hiei and Karasu met one another blow for blow, feet carrying them to the far side of the clearing. Yusuke's jeers sounded at my right as he reclaimed his seat, uncaring of the thick compress secured to his nose. Even father appeared to enjoy the match, lips lifting when the scent of both men's blood reached even here.

But then Rui spoke in her strange tongue.

And Yusuke's laughter died.

Father's smile fell as he rose, sightless eyes tracing Karasu's path skyward. "Stop the match."

Yana appeared at his side, brow knit. "My lord?"

"Gather however many men necessary and stop them, Yanagasawa. Be sure to take Suzaku with you."

The knight lingered a moment longer – doubtlessly awaiting further instruction – yet when none came he clapped a fist to his chest and hurried away, leaping over the side of the platform.

"Father, what is the meaning of this?" I demanded, ripping my eyes from the twirling kama, from the sight of Hiei's blood raining upon the grass. "You will bring shame to both if you–"

"No, Kurama, he's right." Yusuke said even as Shizuru gripped my sleeve, face paling to ghostly white against his wild mane. "Are you–" He shook his head, eyes wide. "Don't tell me you can't _feel_ that?"  
In that moment, the flowers screamed and a choking presence filtered in, one which made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on-end. I swallowed, praying for calm and glancing back at the clearing. Karasu hung in the air still, listless as ever, the breeze intensifying about him with each passing second. Hiei maintained his crouch though something was different, something I couldn't quite place.

Then his face caught my eye. Snarling teeth, pupils shrunken to pinpricks, something altogether sinister swimming within ruby depths–

I'd seen this before.

"Hiei!" Shizuru's hold alone stopped me from rushing the arena. Memories came forth in tandem, horrors from childhood I thought were behind me: the darkened library, forbidden fruit crushed underfoot, a bloodied mouth, a child's cry.

That could never happen again. "Hiei, don't!"

But it was too late. A foreign scream tore from his throat, one too high-pitched and far bigger than his body should hold. Flames encased his right arm, then, purple fire springing from elbow to fingertip, wrapping around the dragon tattoo and burning skin, meat, bone–

A growl swallowed the scream and suddenly he was airborne, gripping the Tengu's blades and snapping at his throat.

"Hiei!" Yusuke cried as Yana and a handful of other knights burst through the trees, Suzaku leading the charge. The taller man ordered them to fan out while Suzaku stretched out his left arm, hand-guard falling away to reveal runes racing across his palm. Fingers splayed, he muttered softly to himself, eyes never leaving Hiei as the strange characters ran faster and faster across his skin.

Finally, a soft light illuminated his palm and he stopped, shouting. "Bindan!"

With that one word, the dragon sprang to life, fleeing Hiei's arm to wrap around his throat with surprising speed. The ink tightened its hold in time with Suzaku's fingers, the members even then slowly curling into a fist.

A choking sound and Hiei pulled back, eyes wide and unseeing, gasping desperately for air. Karasu landed a decisive kick to his sternum, following him to the ground even as the flames fought on, dragging another strangled scream from his throat:

What was going on?

The knights watched on as Karasu lifted Hiei's chin with a scythe, my friend struggling to breath due to Suzaku's hold. Saliva fell from his lips as he reached past the blade to grip the Tengu's pale wrist, claws bursting from impossibly swollen fingers, jaws opened wide in a snarl.

One last stuttering cry and Hiei's hands fell away, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

Stunned silence filled the stands as the knights surrounded the two and forced Karasu away, gripping sheathed blades with practiced ease. The masked man backed away without a fight, lower his kama without being commanded to do so. A word from Yana and Karasu retreated a step further, taking in each man before focusing on his mistress. At Rui's nod, he bowed his head, tucking his weapons under either arm and gliding toward her with easy steps.

"What was that?" Shizuru breathed, glancing first to Yusuke then to myself.

My cousin did not respond, and I found I had no words for her, either. We watched mutely as Yana scooped Hiei up with a steady arm, throwing him over one shoulder before turning, Suzaku following one pace behind. The knight's hand remained outstretched, fingers imitating spider's legs as he concentrated on the unconscious man. At every twitch and involuntary muscle spasm, the characters moved, dark ink's grip around Hiei's neck fluctuating with each breath. A brutal punishment, one which could sever his life at any moment–

I'd forgotten such magic existed in Gandara.

"Take him to the castle." Father commanded as I took in the cuts marring Hiei's body, his ruined arm, the blood leaking from his ears, nose, and split cuticles. "See to it that my healers tend to him personally."

"Yes, my lord." Each knight dipped his head save Suzaku, whose attentions on Hiei never faltered even as sweat beaded his brow. They retreated then, my companion's the last face to be lost to tender orchard leaves.

"Okay, that was weird." Yusuke mused, settling back on his throne, dirty foot perched on a wooden arm. "Stupid weird. Has anything like that ever happened to him before, Uncle?"

Rather than answer, father reclaimed his seat, smile returning by degrees. "Do not worry, nephew, Hiei will be fine."

Yusuke's lips pursed, wincing at the pain the action obviously caused him. "That's not what I–"

"Everything, whether mortal or a kingdom, has its secrets, Prince Yusuke." Father's voice overrode his with ease, tone level, assuring, even. "You know this better than anyone."

A sharp breath and Yusuke's mouth clamped shut, shoving his palm against the orifice before glancing away. Normally such a reaction would have blessed me with a smile, but not today. No, Hiei's screams still rang in my ears; burned flesh clung to both nostrils and strange flames even now lit my retinas. I fought to keep my hands still as the flowers' cries rang out, writhing beneath the weight of his freshly-spilled blood.

Such was too much to ignore.

Thankfully, Shizuru shared my sentiments. "Was that the result of the Tengu's power, King Yomi?" She leaned forward, never relaxing her hold on my arm. "Forgive me, this is the first I've seen of their kind."

"I cannot say, Lady Shizuru. Other than my father's accounts, I know little of them." He turned his head, following the trees' promptings. Karasu knelt before his mistress, wings a downy mass at his back as he crossed his weapon's handles, laying them reverently at her feet. Red dripped from the blades, coating the grass, dying the corners of her pale robes, though the Koorime seemed unconcerned about those things. Rather, Rui's fingers delved into his hair, combing through the tangled mass as she cooed to him in their mother tongue. The Tengu returned her affections by leaning into her touch, eyes closing in a look of pure ecstasy. He was heedless in her hands, uncaring of the injuries dealt by Hiei's blade or the horrified looks cast his way.

Somehow, I could not reconcile this man with the warrior from moments before.

Yusuke's glare smoldered at the display, though he held his peace. Shizuru licked her lips, tilting her head toward father. "Aside from their physical might and the power of their gaze, what abilities do Tengu possess?"

Father's finger tapped against the giddy branch, scars at the bridge of his nose deepening. "I recall the late king saying they command the wind, though even he was unsure of the validity of such claims."

An uncomplimentary sound as my cousin blew against his hand, which father graciously ignored as he rose to address the crowd.

My mind tuned out the proceeding speech, turning back to the concluded match without my permission. Once again, I felt the anticipation of the fight, experienced the dark pull of Karasu's eyes. Savage growls found me there, along with razor teeth and reptilian eyes. Hiei's anger burned against my skin, transporting me to the realm of nightmares, where lightning lined the walls and bruises sprouted upon a too-young face. Blood, tears, a shattered scream–

Things I longed to forget.

"A five-pronged blood seal."

Shizuru's voice reached my ears, words nearly drowned out by father's raised baritone. Brow knit, she continued murmuring to herself, tracing some unknown pattern on the back of one hand.

I leaned forward under the pretense of fanning her with an outstretched branch, mouth stopping inches from her ear. "What is it?"

She licked her lips, pink darting across plush coral before shaking her head, staring pointedly at her lap.

Her reluctance caught me off-guard, though I did my best to hide it, head turning to watch the clearing. Several Oni surrounded a squat ram with red skin and curling horns – their last fighter. Garbed in an orange plaid and tan trousers, the one called Enki received their advice and well-wishes with grace, grinning as he passed his club from one boisterous arm to the other. Karasu rose, though he did not afford his opponent even a passing glance. No, his attention remained on Rui, feathers shielding her from the sun while she focused on father.

"Bird boy's about to get it."

My gaze shifted to Yusuke, fanning Shizuru still as she sat lost in her thoughts. Placated poise forgotten, my cousin sat with one leg drawn in while the other bent toward his chest, toes curling around crossed ankles. Halting hand having moved to his chin, Yusuke fought the urge to grin, satisfied instead balancing a smirk atop bruised knuckles.

Yusuke had always been sly; it was the reason he was crown prince despite having three brothers older than he. "Oh? How did you come to that conclusion?"

This time he did grin, teeth flashing as his chest vibrated with a chuckle. "Unlike your boorish brood, our people live to fight. The worst thing you can do to a ram is tell him he has to wait for a good brawl." Though he was careful to keep his voice low, our muted conversation garnered quite a glares, especially from the elder Gandarans. Yusuke, however, couldn't have cared less about father's words and I'd heard such speeches my entire life. "Especially after watching so many matches and seeing birdy fight?" He shrugged, hands delving into his braids and leaning back. "He's as good as dead."

I raised a brow, noting father's closing statement with gratitude. "I thought killing during tournaments was not allowed in Tourrin?"

He opened one eye to stare at me, having closed both while reclining. "It's not, but don't worry – after what he did, he'll wish he was dead."

Only then did I see the extent of Yusuke's anger toward the Tengu, the bitterness toward his defeating our companion so easily. My cousin was not one to hold grudges yet something about Karasu set him ill at ease, bringing out the rudimentary parts of his nature he normally ignored–

A special talent, to say the least.

Applause and father reclaimed his throne, face fixed on the arena as the combatants came forth. Karasu strode to his place with flawless grace while Hokushin escorted Enki to the opposite side of the clearing, mouth set as he listened to the younger ram's excited yammering. The Hornless offered no words of advice or encouragement, no partiality toward his countryman other than acting as a guide: Such was his role.

Karasu glanced back toward his mistress once more, taking in both her sure stance and the coated kama lying still at her feet. Rui smiled for him, fingers of one hand stretching as far and straight as they would go. A subtle gesture – one I couldn't hope to understand – though the motion set him at ease for he turned to face his opponent once more, open palms revealed to the Oni without pretense.

Hokushin's gaze shifted between the two men before he raised one arm slowly, with steady determination. Then, just when it seemed he would leave the limb to hang forever, he brought his hand down, striking a thigh with a decisive 'clap'.

Enki shivered with obvious excitement but refused to make the first move, doubtlessly recalling Hiei's mistake from the previous match. Precious seconds ticked past in which absolutely nothing happened, the silence in the stands as full as the trees which held them. Then, slowly, Karasu lifted both hands level with his chest, wrists limp, before throwing both into the air, palms facing upward. He maintained this stance despite the jeers thrown his way, meeting Enki's confusion with his unnerving stare.

Yusuke blinked, feet brushing the ground as he leaned forward. "Is he . . . giving up?"

Even as one who did not know the language of the mute, Karasu's stance could signal nothing other than surrender. In the face of the last match, however, the Tengu's submission left me speechless.

The Oni were not so subtle in their opinions. "It's a trick! Don't fall for it, Enki!"

"Keep the heid!" Another shouted, a spirited ram not chosen to fight. "Batter the bawbag!"

This was all the encouragement the warrior needed. Banishing all but the thrill of the fight, Enki screamed to the sky, charging Karasu with abandon.

"Ekki berjast." Rui murmured, her voice reaching my ears due to her proximity, though Karasu heard her all the same. Wings tucked close to his body, he allowed his legs to carry him back, narrowly dodging a bludgeoning by the ram's horns. Still, his hands remained upraised and not a hint of a breeze appeared.

A fact not lost to Yusuke. "Enki, stop!" He shouted, jumping to his feet. "He doesn't want to fight you!"

But the ram was too far gone, lost to the throes of adrenaline and the desire to establish himself among his peers. Another lusty yell and Enki rushed his opponent, club swinging with abandon. Karasu dodged the first two strikes just as he had before, fleeing despite his opponent's speed. However, the ram then stepped purposefully on the Tengu's foot, blocking his retreat before bringing the weapon down full force.

Karasu made no move to block the blow. Rather, his hands remained upraised, acting as masochistic markers toward the Oni's true target. The stone club met his face with a sickening sound, striking from jaw to cheekbone without mercy. Karasu allowed the momentum to carry him to the ground, though he did not acknowledge the blood seeping from twisted metal nor the swelling already emerging beneath one eye.

No, the Tengu reacted only when a definite fissure lined the mask, racing downward with sickening speed. Rather than pain, however, his eyes widened in inexplicable horror, fear lighting those dead depths even though he refused to defend himself.

"Stop!" Yusuke screeched, only fear of insulting father keeping him from rushing the clearing. "I command you to stop!"

Still, Enki did not heed his words. Thinking only of the present victory, the ram ignored Karasu's still hands and wide, winsome eyes, flashing club raised for the final blow.

Two things happened then, neither of which I could have predicted. First, Rui appeared before her fallen warrior, face fixed in a cold mask while staring down his opponent. Hokushin materialized next, legs spread wide as he stopped the club with his staff, catching it at the highest point possible. A muted screech and blue erupted from the joined weapons, lightning racing down the Hornless' arm, eating away plaid and tunic from wrist to shoulder blade. Despite the blackened skin and cuts left by the strike, Hokushin's stance never wavered, his expression stoic as ever. Finally, Yusuke's guardian twisted his torso, long limbs allowing him to pivot Enki to the ground.

The Oni fell with a grunt, body hitting the earth with a resounding rumble due to his girth. He made to rise again but Hokushin was already there, staff positioned inches from his larynx.

"Did you not hear your lord command you to cease fighting?" Hokushin demanded, heedless of the blood dripping from his bicep and elbow. Enki's brow furrowed as clarity returned to his gaze, all traces of battle-lust gone. "You would disobey our prince so callously?"

Enki's eyes widened at this and he turned his head to take in Yusuke, who stood still with his foot upon the platform's banister. Fists clenched at his side, my cousin's face still held traces of shock though anger was quickly taking up residence, lips parting to flash teeth. "N-no! I would never–"

"Or would you dishonor your house and clan by battering an opponent who does not wish to fight you?"

Brows lost in sandy hair, Enki shifted his gaze to stare past Hokushin. Rui had yet to move from her defiant stance, shielding Karasu's body with her own without hesitation. Jaw set, she maintained her icy mask, frigid glare smoldering within her pale face. Karasu hands had fallen the moment his mistress appeared and now both appendages were occupied, one clinging to the shattered remnants of his mask while the other gripped her robes, fingers trembling at their tasks. He surprised me further when tears welled beneath drawn lashes and he began to weep, black collar shuddering as he buried his bloodied face into her skirts.

"Karasu lost the ability to speak as a child." Rui's tone matched her composure, frost-tinged words reaching even here as she placed a hand on the Tengu's head. "He was surrendering to you the only way he knew how."

Enki tried to speak a few times but when his voice failed him, he swallowed hard, shame drenching his face as Hokushin allowed him to rise. Rather than roll to his feet, however, the ram knelt in Yusuke's direction, horns brushing the ground. "Forgive me, Lord Yusuke." He said before turning to the Koorime, his head never leaving the grass. "And you, Lady Rui. I did not mean to offend in any way. Watching the Tengu's matches spoke to my blood and when I realized we would fight one another–" Here his voice trailed away and he swallowed, dipping his head further. "I could hear nor see nothing other than the chance to battle a worthy opponent. I swear by the horns of my ancestors I would never force an unwilling man to fight."

Whether Rui did or not remained unknown; she softened neither her glare nor her posture. However, Yusuke retracted his foot, arms crossing at his chest. "Yeah, we all know that, Enki." The ram raised his head at his lord's voice, watching as my cousin pulled at the compress at his nose. "Just know next time it happens, I'm batterin' yer dafty dowp til yer da don't recognize you!"

The ram grinned at this, rising to his feet. "Aye!"

Enki was promptly named the champion, a fitting end to a tournament honoring Tourrin's prince. Rui and Karasu refused the offers of our healers in favor of the privacy of their own chambers, the lady assaying their concern with assurances of the Tengu's endurance and inherited traits. They made quite the pair fleeing the clearing as the onlookers stormed the grass, black wings and red-dyed robes swallowed readily by overeager trees.

I exchanged pleasantries with Yusuke's people along with father and the other nobles, yet my mind continued to trace over what we'd just witnessed, not quite able to process it all. Hiei's anger and the memory of his blood shriveled my stomach, his screams tapping already frazzled nerves. Also, Karasu's behavior puzzled me to no end, for I could not account for the change in his demeanor between Hiei's match and his bout with Enki. Logic failed as countless horned men gripped my hand and arm, retracing both fights with tactical precision. The Tengu had fought my companion without reserve or mercy, showing no remorse as he dragged out impurities from his opponent with each drop of blood. Not that he seemed overjoyed with the task. No, as with everything, Karasu met Hiei's wrath with cool indifference, refusing to panic even when the shorter man lost control of his faculties.

With Enki, on the other hand, Karasu showed no will to fight, even though the ram was obviously a weaker opponent. Rather, the Tengu approached him without a weapon of any sort, forgoing personal safety entirely by raising his hands. He'd made no move to defend himself, either, choosing rather to retreat until Enki landed a cruel blow. Even then, Karasu appeared unencumbered by personal pain. No:

He reacted only when his mask broke.

"Prince Kurama?"

Only when she called my name did I realize Shizuru had left my side, voice subdued as she weaved through the throng of sweat-soaked men. Alarm iced my veins at her drawn look, apprehension and hints of fear pulling at her brows and mouth.

I'd never seen such a look on her face before.

Stifling every desire to run to her, I forced my feet to keep an orderly pace, reaching her in a few easy strides. "You appear pale, Lady Kuwabara. Is something the matter?"

My fingers shook with the urge to touch her, to examine her with my body rather than my words. I noted Yusuke watching her out of the corner of my eye, face darkening even as he listened to a ram with veiled disinterest. If any had harmed her, especially among his own brood, the Oni prince would see to the matter personally.

Such was his nature.

Shizuru shook her head, breath airy. "No, my lord, everything is fine. Only," She bit her lip, unwilling to meet my eye. "The excitement and heat have fatigued me. My ladies withdrew for Schloss Wald after Lord Hiei's match, and I fear I may faint along the way." A glance at the rams surrounding her, alongside the Gandaran men who spared her not even a cursory look. "I know it is impertinent for me to ask, but would my lord be willing to escort me back to the castle?"

Boots creaking, she swayed first to the left, then to the right, fists pressed against her stomach. Shaking her head, she appeared ready to retract her request when one knee buckled, sending her careening forward. I caught her instantly, not willing for any part of her to brush the ground. "Lady Shizuru–!"

Only then did I discover her ruse. Shizuru's heart beat against mine in a steady rhythm, one untouched by stress or natural extremities. Her skin remained cool to the touch against my cheek and no sickness emanated from her, nor the heavy smell which always accompanied exhaustion. No, she was healthy and whole, resilient as a fox and just as clever.

The twinkle in her eye said as much.

"Would you excuse us, my King?" I glanced at father and helped her to her feet, allowing Shizuru to lean on my arm. "The lady feels unwell – I would escort her to her ladies personally."

Father hummed, breaking off his conversation with Enki to nod in my direction. "Of course, my son. Please see to Lady Shizuru for us."

I nodded, supporting much of Shizuru's weight upon my trapped arm as we left the clearing. Yusuke glanced my way once and grinned, brows wiggling before he winked.

Surely, he'd performed the same stunt any number of times.

Soon enough, the trees engulfed us in their wild, wonderous folds, carving a path to Schloss Wald free of prying eyes. However, Shizuru clung to me still, refusing to relinquish her hold until we reached the peach trees, the belly of the royal orchards. Her hands fled then, falling to her sides amid velvet whispers. Only then did I realize the strength of her grip, the perfect imprint her fingers left on the cloth, muscles immediately mourning the loss of her touch–

I swallowed as the leaves laughed overhead, great boughs craning to watch us.

"Shizuru." Her name sounded thick on my tongue; foreign, as though spoken the first time. Normally, the syllables brought great joy for they belonged to the most beautiful woman in the world. However, I'd never spoken her name outside the castle walls, and then only in the company of Yusuke or Hiei. I trusted the trees to keep my secret – they'd guarded many in my lifetime – yet for some reason, my throat constricted beneath them, paralyzed by sensations I could not place.

She stopped willingly, shuddering before leaning against the trunk of an elder peach, tracing calloused bark with one finger. Though I couldn't see her face, tense shoulders gave away her anger, back straight despite the dip of her body.

Before I could question such a thing, however, she posed one of her own. "How did Hiei receive the mark on his arm?"

The leaves shivered, parting the canopy for an instant before wrapping us once more in dull shade. I watched the sunlight dance across her hair, her hands, painting each detail in colors only a master artisan could concoct. The shift lasted only a moment but the sight of honey fronds braided tight at the nape, the elegant curve of her neck, muscles along her spine smooth and taut:

I knew the image would stay with me the rest of my days.

"Honestly, I am not sure." The trees were listening – I could tell by their silence and undeniable fidgeting – though they made no move to stop us, lily leaves lifting to touch my ankles as I traversed to her side. "The dragon appeared after an incident when we were children."

Lips pursed, she finally glanced at me, eyes shuttered and sharp. "'Incident'?"

"I do not remember the details – it was long ago and we were both very young." Mouth twisting in a scowl, my stomach turned as the memory visited once again: bloodied lips glistening in a dark room; the dragon twisting against raw skin, threatening to eat me alive. "All I know is that Hiei disappeared for two days after an incident in the library and when I saw him next, he possessed the tattoo. Kaito claimed it was a gift, a testament of his strength and loyalty to the crown." Her gaze darkened further, fingers threatening to splinter the wood. "Why, is something the matter?"

For a moment, I feared she would not answer. Unadulterated rage filtered into her gaze – razed cinnamon; a traitorous emotion unfamiliar with my presence. Dark veins surfaced on the backs of her hands and both members shook, one digging further into the still tree, the other burrowing beneath her skirts.

Finally, her lips parted, voice barely above a whisper. "That mark is a seal, Kurama – a powerful one."

My body lurched as if struck, lungs sucking in a sharp breath. Something deep inside rejoiced in her calling me by my given name, though her words hung between us like a tainted thing, banishing any pleasure which could be derived from omission of niceties.

Of course, I knew of seals. A powerful magic, seals were used by many kingdoms, each of which put their own spin on the art. The Oni, for example, placed seals upon their king at his coronation, a ritual lasting several days conducted by the Hornless. Much like father acted

as the voice of Gandara's forests, Tourrin's king became the representative of both Dagda and Lugh upon his crowning: a double-edged sword, for while the Oni king could hear the voices of his gods and was granted their might to use at will, such power was impossible for any mortal to control. Many Tourrite kings were driven mad before their soothsayers developed seals, a method to aid in controlling his power–

The Hornless were formed for just that purpose.

As for Gandara, seals were not developed here until the Dragon's War, and even then with mixed results. Originally intended to control the beasts, the practice was soon outlawed for a number of reasons, namely due to mortal danger of the caster. If even one thing went awry during the ritual – which itself took quite some time – both the recipient and the caster would likely die; such happened countless times during that bloody war. Also, another flaw presented itself in the possibility of the caster abusing his or her power because, frankly, the recipient could not stand against the magic. Such corrupted the soul of both, leading to unsatisfactory ends, especially when further experimentation proved seals could be used on Gandaran and dragon alike. Thus, sealing was forbidden at the close of the war, taught thereafter only to the royal house as a precaution for Gandara's security:

How did Shizuru know of the practice?

She turned to me, then, brows raised. "You didn't know?"

I shook my head, unable to manage a verbal admission.

Disappointment dissolved her surprise, pulled at her mouth, leaving behind something decidedly dark.

Before she could admit as much, however, I pushed forward. "I thought knowledge of seals was limited to my bloodline, my lady."

Back to formalities, a habit my tongue set to readily. Rather than comment, however, she smirked, a perfectly chiseled, sloping line. "Knowledge is limited only to those who have given up learning, my lord."

I bit back a curse, though refused to let my frustration show, choosing instead to escort her deeper among the trees. "Tell me – what is a five-pronged blood seal?"

She frowned as the fragrance of fruit pressed to her skin, though the boughs knew better than to offer their treasures now. Fingers curling around my arm, she picked at a stubborn cuticle with her thumb, a nervous habit left from childhood. "You've never heard of it?"

A sarcastic comment rose – some quip about Kaito's lax pace in teaching which had long-since led me to seek things out for myself in the library – though I simply shook my head. "No."

Another lapse of silence and copper tinted the air, soft red budding at her middle finger. "Shizuru–"

"Seals are difficult to pull off, even under the best circumstances. I assume you know the risks involved?" At my nod, she continued, mouth twisted to one side. "Blood seals, however, are an entirely different beast because what goes into them isn't simply thoughtless words and symbols. Surely you can guess what they call for, Kurama."

This was not a question but a demand; even in her anger, she would never insult my intelligence. "Blood."

An affirmative hum. "And lots of it, from both the caster and receiver."

I bottled the shudder as soon as it rose, fighting back red-hued images.

When the expected commentary did not come, she continued. "There are six blood seals, each more complicated to cast than the last, yet each additional prong comes more stability, control. The five-pronged seal is the second most powerful."

The breeze found us beneath the apple trees, brushing her skirts against my knee. "With six prongs being the strongest?"

"No, the seven-pronged holds that spot." At my look Shizuru shrugged, pulling her pipe and tobacco from a sleeve pocket. "The number six does not care for Gandara – our ancestors discovered that during the Great War."

I nodded, stepping away so she could enjoy her recreation in peace. "How much more power dwells in seven prongs than five?"

She closed her eyes as she inhaled, holding in the sweet smoke for several seconds. When she finally exhaled through both nostrils, a calm had overtaken her face which was absent before, one I could not invoke even on the best of days. "With five points, both parties generally live through the ritual, though a great deal of blood is called for. With seven points–"

Here she stopped, taking another long, deep drag. I knew she would not be hurried so I didn't try, though my ears ached with longing.

Finally, she exhaled, leveling me with a look. "The seven-pronged seal irrevocably involves death."

The fig trees hissed overhead, though it could very well have been a trick of the wind. "Of whom?"

Shizuru did not comment on the sudden softness in my voice, the perpetual cold seeping into my features. Both intoned shock, something a member of Gandaran royalty was not allowed to express:

She'd learned as much during our time together.

"A chosen soothsayer and, eventually, either the caster or receiver – whomever loses the battle of wills."

Both Hiei and Suzaku's faces flashed before my eyes, both healthy and whole before falling in a bloody heap, bodies torn asunder by an unseen force.

Pressure on my shoulder and Shizuru's smile filtered through the red. "We're dealing with the five-pronged seal, Kurama – neither of them should meet that end."

I returned her smile as spider lilies giggled, thick fruit swaying overhead. Before I knew it, my hand reached up to grip her own, an action she allowed as our arms fell between us and we continued on our way. "So, Suzaku is the maker of the seal and Hiei the vessel."

"Yes, though I have no idea why."

Truthfully, I didn't, either. Nothing from that winter day hinted such extreme action necessary, and this went far above any punishment Hiei could have allocated for removing the knight's finger.

Shizuru shifted her grip as we entered the nut groves, pressing gently against my knuckles. "And asking either is out of the question."

I acknowledged as much with a grunt. "I could demand an answer as the prince, though Suzaku serves father directly and is under no obligation to answer."

Another drag and she tipped her head back, smoke pouring from her lips. "What about Hiei?"

"According to Gandaran law, Hiei belongs to me as a piece of property might, though I have never entertained that thought." I shook my head, refusing to allow the balm of walnut to soothe me. "If I pressed him using my authority as prince, he would have no choice but to answer."

Her face softened further, morphing into a look I'd often seen mothers give their children. "You don't think he'd forgive you."

"I know he wouldn't." I returned the press of her fingers, facing forward. "Hiei would never trust me again."

We continued in silence from then on, lost in our own thoughts and the feel of each other's hands. Gone was the girlish grip from years ago: Shizuru's hand fit almost perfectly against mine, though her fingers were slimmer, softer; nails tracing the back of my hand the way they would a childhood toy. This was the first time she'd allowed me to hold her hand as a grown woman and, though my concern for Hiei grew with each passing second, I found myself unwilling to quicken the pace, wanting to enjoy her touch as long as possible.

It was the most selfish thing I'd ever done.

However, she made the decision as we crested the almond rows, hand slipping from my grip without resistance. Tapping out still-clinging ash from her pipe, she returned the instrument to her sleeve before slipping the arm back through mine, face a mask of exhaustion. I allowed her to lean against me as day broke through and we left the orchards behind, Schloss Wald stretching before us in twisted increments of wood and stone.

Talk of the seal bristled my brain even after we entered the castle gates, a manservant immediately taking Shizuru from me. A quick word and another appeared, ready to take me to my companion.

Still, as the ancient walls embraced with open arms, I could not help wondering why our people would do such a thing to Hiei:

What enemy were they guarding against?

A/N: Hello and welcome to chapter nine! Initially, I intended for this to be longer but decided against it, settling with everyone seeing the last half of the tournament from Kurama's perspective as well as learning a not-so-pleasant side of Gandara's history.

Thank you all for your lovely reviews as well as the follows and favorites for this story! Each one motivates me to crank out the best possible story for you guys.

Also, big shoutout to my beta reader Candid Ishida! Thanks for all that you do!

So, a sweet moment for unnecessary brutality plus info on a yucky seal. Back to Hiei next chapter! Feel free to leave your thoughts in a review of PM me.

Scottish phrases:

Keep the heid – stay calm, don't get upset

Batter the bawbag – beat up the scrotum

Dafty dowp – silly butt

Icelandic Phrases:

Ekki berjast – Don't fight


	10. The Giving Tree

_Hello darkness, my old friend_

 _I've come to talk with you again._

– _Paul Simon_

The Giving Tree

 **Hiei's POV**

 ** _Monster_** _._

 _"Your Highness, he shouldn't be allowed to live!"_

 _The words were fuzzy at first, fractured pictures that refused to come together. Something rough bit against my back, clawed at my bones, but my eyes refused to open. Angry voices, clanging metal and the scent of stale blood–_

 _Who were they talking to?_

 _"My Lord!" The sound of a shoe close by but my head wouldn't move; I couldn't even twitch a finger. In that space between asleep and awake the voice spoke again; pained, pleading, almost pitiful._

 _I knew that voice._

 _"That is not for you to decide." The simple phrase provided no answers, spoken from another familiar throat._

 _Why was the King here?_

 _"But your Majesty, he could destroy us all!"_

 _"If this child ever attempts to harm my people, I will deal with the matter personally – you of all people should know this."_

 _Liquid tracing a cool pattern along my arm, the tell-tale prickling of a thick brush. Still, my body refused to obey, snatches of conversation coming slowly, as if directed at someone else._

 _But then the scents of opium and hemlock registered._

 _And I heard chanting from far away._

 _**Monster**._

 _"Suzaku, can we trust you with this task?"_

 _Finally, my lids peeled back to see the blonde man kneel before Kurama's father, bandaged right hand pressed to his chest. His head remained down but I saw the anger there – it crept from his strained jaw and too-straight shoulders – though none stained his tongue. "If it is what my King would have from me."_

 _This was just like before: when they hurt me, when they TOOK HER AWAY FROM ME. I struggled then, fingers grasping even as my leg lashed out, upsetting the incense pot. The foul mixture burned my ankle but I didn't care; the pain allowed me to think, to return to myself–_

 _I refused to go through with this._

 _Not again._

 _"King Yomi!"_

 _Soft hands stopped me, chased away phantoms of filth-laden sewers and her screams. The King's face materialized, fingers gentle at my head and shoulder, stray strands of hair sliding down to brush my cheek. He smiled but the gesture curled my stomach for his lips were pressed thin, unyielding to emotion–_

 _Cold._

 _"Tell me, Hiei, do you know why you were allowed to stay in Gandara?"_

 _My eyes squeezed shut and I choked on my own tongue, biting back images that came one after another: a metal cage, an ice-packed road leading to the unknown capital; being dressed in the dark only to rush and grovel in a royal hall, praying to be chosen this time. A boy younger than I, wide-eyed and reeking of innocence. He'd asked the King for a friend and . . . A name–_

 _He'd given me a name._

 _"The Prince."_

 _King Yomi hummed at the strangled words, words I could barely hear over the beating of my heart. "And what would you do for the Prince, our son?"_

 _Memories from before Kurama attempted to creep forth as someone rekindled the opium concoction, tugging at my consciousness with jagged teeth. Choking hands and countless beatings; ice lacing my throat, my wrists, my–_

 _**Monster**._

 _"Anything." I rasped, terrified of the images, the look on his face, those too-big hands on me._

 _King Yomi's smile softened though the creases around his eyes did not. "Even if it caused you pain?"_

 _His fingers lifted to trace the edges of the cloth at my forehead, the scars at my throat, scars I'd done my best to hide through dirt, high collars, even powder. I froze as a nail brushed my larynx, at the fingertip lifting the cloth at my brows, afraid to breathe in the face of that smile. He knew . . . He KNEW and he let me to stay._

 _It took several moments to remember my voice. "Anything."_

 _The King released me then, the smile that greeted the Prince and I each day returning. "Good." He breathed, running a comforting hand through my sweat-soaked hair. "You are a good child."_

 _His attendants drew closer then and Suzaku came to my side, though he didn't lay down. Rather, he sat facing me and unfastened the leather guard at his left hand with his teeth, glaring blue never leaving me. Everything grew hazy then, the knight's hair and eyes smearing into a sunlit sky, the room slipping into a dim abyss._

 _"From today forward, you must remember one thing, Hiei."_

 _King Yomi's voice reached through the fog, keeping me on the edge of wakefulness. The low timbre held me when lightning bit my wrist, scenting the air with fresh blood._

 _"No matter what anyone says,"_

 _Fire lit my veins, singing my brain and stealing the rest of his words. I screamed as black flames coated my arm, mad creatures swirling only to be caught by ink stains. The letters burned, branded themselves on my skin, searing to the bone–_

 _Stirring its rage._

 _"Never forget that above all else–"_

 _**Monster**._

 _"You belong to Gandara."_

Like a corpse cresting the water's surface, the waking world called me back without a fight. The ceiling came first, dull gray stones decorated with swirling runes which even now pulsed with violent light, the remnants of cryptic magic. Next came the scent of heady copper and I fought the urge to cough, to expel the bitter herbs caught in my throat. Soft light registered then but I couldn't move my body, couldn't feel anything other than the incessant throbbing in my right arm.

Slowly, my eyes drifted shut and the events from earlier rose, piercing the murky depths. Kuwabara and Yusuke both lost their fight, leaving the Tengu to me. Karasu's thoughtless gaze and Rui's confidence were annoying as ever but I couldn't understand Kurama's fear, the panic lacing his pulse beneath that stare. A whisper of wind, the sting of scythes, the fox's scream; and then–

Nothing.

"Finally awake?"

I bit back a growl, forcing my head to turn until one cheek brushed cold stone. The light grew with the movement, further cementing the headache between my temples. Rather than beside me as in the dream, Suzaku reclined against the far wall, well outside the reach of the luminous circle. Bereft of armor, the knight sat proudly in his pale silk, flimsy material flowing from an upraised knee to pool at his ankles. Tunic sleeves held in place by gold bangles, his chest peeked between folds of cloth – stiff collars and undergarments were unnecessary here. Despite being a warrior, his skin remained barren of scars, something I'd never understood. Fair hair fastened away from his face, twin-dyed bangs touched either cheek, frivolous symbols of his family and name. Those scarlet locks outlined the coronet gracing his forehead, a simple golden ring centered around a gemstone. His left hand rested upon his lap, cursed symbols free for all to see whereas his right remained buried in his hair, safely hidden from view. But I knew what hid in that scalp he was so proud of, the lost appendage that haunted him even now–

The absent leather straps at his wrists proved it.

When I didn't respond he smirked, twirling deft fingers around a putrid bang. "You lost control again, though it was worse than last time."

My eyes widened before I could bring my face into submission. The hint of a sigh escaped as dread weighed my stomach, gaze moving to the ceiling. "What did I do?"

I didn't want to ask the question – to give this arrogant fool more power over me than he already had – but Kurama's screams rang still in my ears, bringing to mind too many things I wanted to forget.

His lips peaked further, fingers languidly twisting a red strand. "Do you really want to know?"

Anger bubbled in my gut, bringing with it memories of discarded fruit and musty books, fierce lightning and too-wide eyes. The circle reacted to the emotion, green light brightening to a putrid shade while the runes hummed viciously against my skin.

Suzaku raised a brow and the smirk slipped as he raised his left hand, letters written in the trees' tongue rustling across a calloused palm. The dragon reacted to their dance, red eyes gleaming as it wrapped tighter around my arm, bunching both flesh and muscle between dark coils.

Welts dotted my spine and arms though I refused to acknowledge the pain; that would only make the circle burn hotter, as any strong emotion did. Eyes fixed on the faded orange and blue script overhead, I forced deep breaths into my nose before letting the air slip from my mouth, continuing until the rage settled and we were wrapped once more in semi-darkness.

Only then did the knight lower his hand, long fingers sheathing the offending symbols. We remained that way for a time, Suzaku watching while I stared at the ceiling, neither willing to give the other the satisfaction of speaking.

Finally, he broke the silence, though his voice contained no glee. "You tried to kill the Koorime's manservant."

That earned my attention. I watched as his brow furrowed and the hand fell from his hair, eerie light illuminating the nub where his right thumb should have been. Though rough bandages itched at my abdomen and thighs, I knew better than to survey the damage:

I couldn't rise without Suzaku's approval.

"Of course, if you'd succeeded in slaying him we wouldn't be here right now." He scoffed, gaze falling to the flawed limb in his lap. "Gandara can't afford strained relations with Hyouga," The words trailed away and he raised his head, eyes narrowing to venomous slits. "Especially over something as _filthy_ as you."

The barb passed through, burrowing deep inside where countless dark things dwelt. I stopped the weak voice rising in protest, a speckle of conscience and self-worth instilled by the fox. There was no point in arguing with the truth–

Not when evidence from the night before still tainted my skin.

"What else?" I demanded, noting his defensive stance, sword within easy reach despite my imprisonment. Suzaku may have been many things but he wasn't an idiot:

He knew to fear darkness.

Suzaku leaned against the wall again, any traces of amusement gone from his face. "You ignored a direct order from Prince Kurama and gave yourself over to _it_ willingly. Obviously, the Tengu defended himself – if not for King Yomi's intervention, you'd be dead right now."

I would pay homage to the King later – grovel at his feet if I had to – but Kurama's name banished any other thought, his screams stretching once more through the void. "What of the Prince?"

Icicle dread clenched at his silence and I struggled to raise my head, knowing and uncaring of the consequences. Light flooded the room, burrowing its way into my shoulders and neck but still I forced my neck from the floor, made him look at me. "Was the Prince harmed or not? Answer me!"

He snorted then, nose wrinkling at the display. "You think the King values your life over that of his own _son_?"

The runes shone brighter, calling to body and blood, but I refused to give in. Bracing both elbows, I forced my shoulders up, jaw grinding against the pain. King Yomi's face flitted across my mind's eye, boasting the same cool smile from years ago. Even now I could feel his hold, fingers pressed to shameful scars, sickening authority tainting his tone:

 _You belong to Gandara._

Suzaku watched my efforts a bit longer before clasping his left hand into a tight fist, a soft word breaking the enchantment. Green light faded to nothing then, allowing me to sit up without resistance. Rather than rise, however, I remained in the center of the circle, never breaking eye contact with the knight.

"Prince Kurama is fine, though he witnessed what happened along with everyone else."

My gaze shifted then, taking in blood-soaked bandages at my legs and stomach before settling on my right arm, to the dragon settled among pink flesh. "Does he know?"

Another snort. "How could he? The only ones who know the truth aside from you and the King are the royal guard." His eyes darkened then, frown deepening into a scowl. "If you ever tell anyone–"

"I won't." I snapped, bored with his dribble and idle threats.

He remained silent as I rose, taking in the lack of strength in my legs, the rare goose flesh dotting my skin, raw cuticles lining fresh fingernails.

Finally, when I pressed experimentally at the cloth covering my navel, he spoke. "They never should have spared a beast like you."

My eyes found him again, still seated as if posing for a portrait. One hand traced a lock of hair while the other rested at his side, notably closer to his blade. "Then again, so long as you're the Prince's pet, I have no say in the matter." Bitterness trickled from his throat, hatred lining every contour of his face. "But know this: I will do anything to protect this kingdom, even if it means murdering a monster."

For a moment, I simply watched him, this self-assured fool who held my life in his hand. How many times had I heard those words, wishing my mother drowned me the moment I was born? In those times, the fox's voice always found me, gave me purpose, reminded me of my reason for _being_ –

I could never repay that kindness.

"I belong to Gandara." Emotion fled before the declaration. Passion and pride had no place here, not before the truth. "And I will protect it until my dying breath."

He raised a brow, lips curling away in a sneer. "And if you lose control and attack the Crown? Not even the Prince will be able to protect you then."

The implications boiled my blood, though I suppressed the anger. "If I ever raise a hand against my King or my Prince, I fully expect you to kill me. I won't stop you."

Suzaku held my gaze for a time but for how long, I couldn't say. Finally, he stood, glaring down at me with absolute disgust. "You'd best hope that day never comes." His said, voice a low purr, calm and dripping with malice. "If we ever cross blades, your death won't be an easy one."

He strode into the hall, then, leaving me to dress in the dark.

 _They never should have spared a beast like you_.

Cold water shocked my spine, chasing layers of muck and blood from sweat-soaked skin. Breathing through clenched teeth, I glared at the ancient walls, an unwilling participant in my legs lowering me the rest of the way down. Knowing trees hummed at my presence, trunks worn smooth by centuries of use.

One of the few rooms in Schloss Wald composed entirely of living wood, the baths housed seven great pools, each nestled in the roots of a towering willow. The tubers performed multiple functions: from supporting the castle's left flank and filtering in water to acting as reservoirs, the trees had served the monarchy for centuries. Little natural light filtered into this place, so the soothe sayers who weaved Schloss Wald pressed specially selected seeds into the willow bark, giving birth to luminous shoots. Those plants now lined the trunks by the thousands, and though their glow remained indistinct, together they lit the chamber with something akin to dawn's light. An artistic touch, along with a tangible function:

Just what I'd expect from Kurama's people.

Of the pools, five were used for bathing, one for cleansing, while the last remained for healing. I didn't know what separated the last two from the others other than their color but I silently gave thanks for the healing pool–

It was the one I used most.

Without being asked, the roots submitted themselves to me, silently shifting from stepping stones to underwater benches. As always, they kept their opinions to themselves, ever willing to save poor fools from drowning. Slick wood pressed at either hip, cementing me in place as I worked at the bandages at my stomach. Soft hisses seeped out without permission; I cursed my trembling hands, clumsy and slow for the first time in years. The dragon glared up from tired knuckles, eyes hard and angry, though I was used to its ire.

A growl when at last the cloth fell away, revealing a mattered mess of blood, grit and muscle. I threw the soiled linen onto my clothes, forcing myself to sink until water lapped at my chest. The lavender liquid bit at the wound, gently sucking dirt and frayed flesh into clear depths. Biting one cheek, I tilted my head back and forced myself to relax, willing the wounds to heal.

And still the dragon watched.

A sudden sound and I spun around, heedless of the water and the cut marring my abdomen. White pierced my skull and I snarled as both feet slipped on smooth wood, nearly pulling me underwater. Panic rallied with pain when I realized my blades were with my clothes, that there was no way I could–

Then the rustling of feathers, along with a fine musk.

Even before my vision cleared, a question forced its way out. "Why are _you_ here?"

The image came slowly; fuzzy at first, frayed at the edges, before each line finally became clear. Karasu stood at the edge of the farthest pool, skin translucent in the pale light. He wore his customary black though the material hugged his body the same way, cotton having replaced coarse wool. Rather than the revealing one that made the nobles uncomfortable, this tunic covered his abdomen entirely, concealing even the flesh at his throat. The collar attempted to hide beneath the fabric but I saw it anyway, bulging beneath the black, an unspoken death sentence:

A monstrosity he could only shelter here.

One minute passed, then another, but the Tengu didn't move – I knew he breathed only by the fogging of his mask. Karasu's gaze never left mine but something was different about it, too. Today they weren't the eyes of a living corpse. Hints of emotion lingered, things I'd long thought he put off: tinges of anxiety, uncertainty–

And overall, sadness.

Finally, I sank back against the willow root, just enough for the water to lap at the wound. "What, haven't had enough gloating? Did your mistress send you?"

Rather than answer, Karasu took first one step, then another, entering the pool nearest him without hesitation. A root rose to accommodate his steps, boots making a sickening sound as water filled them, though he didn't seem to care. Never breaking eye contact, he continued until he was through the water, soggy shoes squelching against dry wood. He knew to stay away from the emerald pool, though even I didn't know what the blessed liquid would do:

It wasn't for filth like us.

His steps remained graceful, unconscious, pliable to the gnarled wood marking his path around the holy water. The moss responded to his steps though I couldn't fathom what it said, green tufts shivering as an ancient trunk groaned in that strange tongue only the King understood.

A growl rose as Karasu neared my bath, a sound that came as naturally as breathing. He stopped, unnaturally still in those bloated boots, though he didn't back away. No, he continued his lukewarm stare, something resembling pity lurking beneath drooping lids. Like instruments, neither of us could express individual will, could do nothing of value without our patron's say-so.

We were well-trained dogs forever awaiting our masters' orders.

Only then did I notice the swollen right side of his face, purple-hued skin hugging the edges of the mask. A fresh crease marred the metal from top to bottom, and though the mask remained whole, the weld was obviously the work of an amateur.

Who could have gotten close enough to the Tengu to rupture his mask?

 _You tried to kill the Koorime's manservant._

For a moment, I couldn't breathe. Forgotten fear trickled in, conjured by the light reflecting off encasing metal. Another sound crept up my throat, desperate fingers raking against my skin. "I won't apologize." He tipped his head, the slight movement sending a handful of black strands over one shoulder. "If that's why you came, you're wasting your time."

I swallowed irrational emotion, gaze fixed on those pale hands. Instinct raved against not watching his face, at taking my eyes off my opponent. Still, I knew better with him:

My body remembered those hands.

When he refused to move, I relaxed the fist at my thigh, warning fading to a soft sigh. "Why are you here, Karasu?"

The question sounded tired to my own ears but I pushed away the fatigue, attention shifting to the shimmering leaves dotting the trees. Slowly, my thoughts were dragged to another place, another time:

 _Hands pulled at my body, soft and rough hands, big and small hands. Spider fingers squeezed my throat, silencing screams and any thought of fighting back. Knowing nails pressed at just the right places, drawing out whatever response they wanted, all while the bell chimed._

 _Frigid wind stole their laughter and chiding but their fluttering sighs remained, sighs only women could give. A strangled whimper at a hard touch, a bad touch. Heart pounding, I fought even as pressure mounted, demanding something I didn't understand._

 _Still, the bell chimed._

 _Suddenly, one of those hands struck my face, though the rhythm never changed. I didn't know I'd been growling until the sound died. "Don't you want to be a good boy?"_

 _I knew better than to answer, even if I could talk around those slender fingers. The woman smiled, the sky filling my vision as she leaned over me. Teeth at my shoulder, my chest, along with the fresh scent of blood–_

 _For the first time in months, I wanted my mother._

 _"Only good boys get presents." She purred, hair brushing my belly. "If you don't fight, we'll take you to her."_

 _At first, I thought they meant mother, but that didn't make sense. I had only one memory of her: mother tearing at her beautiful clothes, soft face contorted with pain as they took me away, all while screaming a name, **my** name–_

 _A name that didn't matter anymore._

 _No, they could only be talking about one person –_ _her_ _. The girl they tried to keep from me, who crept into this place with sweet treats and icy balm, tokens of friendship. Round rose-tinted eyes, too-thin limbs and the softest smile, a smile I'd do anything to protect. Whenever the sentries caught her, their anger always turned to me; I couldn't count the times they beat me and made her watch. Freely-given crystals clacked against the stone as she screamed, begging them to stop:_

 _Even now, I heard those cries in my dreams._

The familiar creaking of wood near my ear and I lashed out, cursing my carelessness. Her image remained but I tucked it away, banishing her gentle touch and doe eyes. I couldn't think about her, couldn't even speak her _name_ –

Such things were forbidden.

Karasu stood just out of reach, arms at his side, watching with clouded eyes. Wrists facing me, he tipped his head back, larynx protruding beneath thin cloth. I knew the gestures, yet only one hand opened to me, the other squeezed into a tight fist. For a moment, I hated Kaito and his teachings on morality:

They alone stopped me from tearing out his throat.

I bared my teeth, ignoring the pain as my legs drew into a crouch. "Why are you here, _h_ _ó_ _ra_? I won't ask again."

He didn't react to the slur; the blow I expected never came. Rather, he lifted his right hand slowly, deliberately, fingers unfurling inches from my face. A black spine lay in that scarred palm, barren of tufts and meticulously sharp. Beside it rested a tiny bobbin, dark thread already weaved through the makeshift needle.

For a second, I stared at the gift. I knew without asking that the spine came from one of his feathers and that the bobbin was probably the only one he owned – slaves were never afforded much. Even with his arched neck and ridiculous height, his gaze lacked condescension, sheltering an emotion I knew all too well.

I had no time for his pity.

"Get out."

The cold command didn't move him, nor did the snarl curling my lip. Suddenly, I wanted to break that beautiful hand, snap every bone, ligament and joint. The only thing that stopped me was knowing he would let me do it. Unless directed by his mistress, Karasu wouldn't raise a hand to anyone, even in self-defense–

Such submission curled my stomach.

Finally, he backed away, bending to place the needle and thread by my clothes. Bowing, he turned, retracing his steps around one pool and through another. Once at the door, however, he stopped, turning back to face me.

Before I could speak, he raised both fists before crossing them over his chest, right hand pressed tightly to his clavicle. Experience demanded a reaction, to avoid an attack or tear him to pieces but I stayed put, staring at those hands.

When he remained in that position, eyes never leaving mine, something stirred in my mind, something I thought I'd forgotten. "'Protect'?"

Karasu nodded, arms falling away. My nose wrinkled, churning the word over and over again. "Protect who?" Surely he couldn't mean Kurama.

He glanced over his shoulder, as if afraid someone would overhear. His fear was well-founded: the walls of Schloss Wald had ears, though they answered to none but the King. Surely he knew that. Was this something he didn't want King Yomi to know?

Brow furrowed, he turned to me and raised his right hand, index finger raised parallel with his body, middle finger slanted at a ninety degree angle. Then, he swiftly tapped that hand to his left shoulder, then the right before bringing it to rest against his right hip, those two fingers elevated all the while.

This, too, took a moment to process. When the word finally came all moisture left my mouth, lips parting to whisper. "The Princess?"

Another nod and his hand came to rest once more against his thigh, eyes lit with a chilling knowledge.

Dread pooled in my stomach and before I knew it I was on my feet, moving toward him. "What do you mean? What about the Princess?"

But he shook his head, hands retreating behind his back as if he'd said too much. Before I could stop him, he fled the baths, leaving me alone.

I cursed, striking the water with my fist. A gentle root nudged my calf, calling my attention to the gift he left behind. Slowly, hand pressed to my abdomen, I left the pool, taking the needle between fingers that still shook. Karasu's cryptic riddle could wait:

There were more pressing matters to deal with.

A/N: Hello again and thank you for your patience! I took a break from both TWB and my other story Hey You last month for the Inktober prompts, most of which focus on these two fics. If you're interested, be sure to check them out! You might find hints to future events in this story.

So, we see two very different relationships in this chapter as well as hear Karasu's 'voice' for the first time! What exactly ties these men to Hiei together, and what's up with the Tengu's message anyway? Back to Kurama next chapter, see you soon!

Hóra – whore


	11. Courtly Conduct

_The world is all gates, all_

 _opportunities, strings of tension_

 _waiting to be struck._

 _Ralph Waldo Emerson_

Courtly Conduct

 **Kurama's POV**

 _"I want to show you something."_

 _The simple statement roused me from fleeting dreams, propelling slow fingers to slip on silk and tighten sashes, moved me to follow him on silent feet. Hiei's coming to my chambers in the night was far from unusual – he still chose to sleep in my room more often than not, despite our years together. Still, in all this time my companion had never exerted his will upon me, save the dreaded day of the dragon tattoo._

 _Ultimately, this was why I allowed him to lead me into the garden._

 _Staring at Hiei's back proved an unusual but welcome sight. Custom bound us at all times: though my superior in many ways, Hiei was never allowed to walk by side, to be seen as anything close to an equal. No, he always stared at my back, dutifully one step behind, save when entering a room he believed suspect. A thrilling change, a welcome one–_

 _A small step toward friendship._

 _The flowers shuffled in their beds, trees stuttering snores rivaling any which could come from a mortal throat. We weaved around rumbling roots and yawning branches, floral throats demanding in sleepy voices to know our business. Hiei did not answer them and I did not either; there wasn't much to say._

 _I did not know our reason for being here, either._

 _Hiei entered my garden with practiced ease, silently breaking from the rows of fruit trees. Cold crept up my legs as I waited a few paces away, grass wet with dew soaking through thin boots and trousers. In quick order, he removed his scarf, cloak and shirt, placing each on the ground with care until he stood bare chested before me. Tell-tale dark marks I'd come to know so well dotted his abdomen, alongside scars won through years of service._

 _Gaze fixed upon his bandaged right arm, he pulled at the white cloth with certainty, never looking my way once. "You can't reveal this to anyone." His voice remained hushed, despite our location and the late hour. "This is for your eyes alone."_

 _My mind raced as he rolled away the wrappings one row at a time, revealing the mark I hadn't seen in years, one he kept hidden from the world. "I don't understand."_

 _Surely he remembered that night long ago in his room, when I first discovered the tattoo–_

 _He would never forget such a thing._

 _Hiei ignored the comment, staring instead at the mark marring his skin, the scarred palm facing skyward. "I never intended to show this to anyone, but you have the right to know. I_ _ **want**_ _you to know."_

 _Before I could question him further, he furrowed his brow, fingers curling as though he held an invisible ball. For several moments, nothing happened. A soft breeze tugged at our hair, our clothes, sent the flower's call to embrace us. Then, he grunted and I saw the dragon tighten around his arm, coils strangling muscle as if the thing were alive._

 _For a chilling second, I believed those eyes were living, breathing things. "Hiei–!"_

 _He demanded silence with one look, sweat beading against the cloth at his brow._

 _Finally, when I feared lasting damage to his arm imminent, a sputtering in his palm, followed by another until flaming tongues of dark fire rested in his hand. I couldn't help but stare as the flame grew to the size of a small goblet, perfectly contained behind cupped fingers. Such a thing shouldn't have been possible – only one race had been capable of controlling flame and they died out long ago – yet here my companion stood, conjuring fire effortlessly._

 _"You can't tell a soul." He whispered, eyes fixed on the flames. Taking a breath, his head rose to meet my gaze, eyes reflecting the strange light much like gemstones. "Promise me."_

 _The conviction lining his words took my breath and for a moment, I could only stare. Hiei had never asked me to promise him anything, not after the Diviega incident or the countless other times I'd failed him. Were we still children, I doubtlessly would have voiced the questions spinning in my mind, cornered him into to bearing his soul, his darkest secrets. Tales of fire-bearers resurfaced, then, each flowing from the pens of victors. Vicious beings, driven by instinct and a thirst for destruction; creatures who did not belong in this world. Burgeoning with lust, hungry for war; the basest of animals–_

 _Monsters._

 _However, my companion was none of those things. "I promise."_

I never was able to see Hiei that day.

By the time we returned from the tournament grounds, the soothsayers were already hard at work, the healer's quarters barred to even me. I waited patiently for their summons but, when no word came, my steps carried me to the belly of the castle, to the room lit with lamplight where the Merciful Mother waited.

The first of our race, she'd given us all things, including life and the flower's song. With her own hands, she wove Gandara into being shortly after the world began: trees sprouted from her palms, flora flourishing beneath fervent fingertips; her hair taught the wind to sing and she fed the land with her blood, each drop giving rise to streams, rivers, and springs. Animals meant to dwell on land poured forth from her mouth, birds of the air from her nose and fish from her ears, for she loved the sound of the waves. However, we were the fortunate ones, for she birthed us from her deepest parts. The first of our people had the pleasure of knowing her, of seeing her face and loving her–

In return, she asked only that her story be passed on to us.

An etching on the healer's wall preserved this tale, aged wood protruding in the shape of a woman with elongated ears and a tender smile. Trees grew from her hands and images not unlike animals rose from the bark, each demanding attention and reverence. I'd loved this room and its bright potions since childhood, the circular carpet and two stone tables placed just under the Mother so the infirmed could look upon her face, entreating for the cessation of pain even as the soothsayers worked. When finally allowed entrance, however, neither of the tables held my companion–

There wasn't even a trace of blood in the cracked rock.

When pressed, the elderly woman stated Hiei had returned to his chambers and wished to be left alone. Not unusual, given my companion's temperament, but I tasted the lie on her tongue; she refused to look at me. Trying Hiei's room proved futile for no matter how I knocked or pleaded, he refused to answer. I knew he was there – the freshness of his scent attested as much – but I could not work up the nerve to demand entrance. Such was my right as heir of Gandara, yet my hand refused to force the dragon-etched door.

I wouldn't rob him of his sanctuary.

"So, the heir of Hyouga is missing?"

Father's voice drew me from my musings, the scents of warm chamomile and sandalwood smoking in hanging bronze dishes soothing fractured nerves. I straightened in the gilded throne, my seat since birth, second to father's in subtle differences the eye could not easily spy. Scarlet robes hugged both neck and wrists, pinching knees and elbows without pity, yet I allowed no hints of discomfort to surface. Rings glistening on each finger, I forced both hands to relax against the golden arms, conscious of the woven band pressed into my hair. Father rarely asked me to attend court, though it was not everyday that an ally entreated us for aid.

Thankfully, I wasn't alone in this venture. Hiei stood two paces at my back, as he always did on official occasions. He'd surprised me when he appeared outside my door, ready to escort me first to the dining hall then the audience chamber, as though yesterday never happened. The heady moss garments clashed with his eyes brilliantly, two bright poppies emerging victorious from a vine-choked bed. No visible wounds marred his body and, though he remained silent throughout our time together, such was normal for him this time of day.

Though I could not see my companion now, Hokushin never left my peripheral, still as stone behind Yusuke's ornate chair. The Hornless wore the customary attire of his race and rank, loose-fitting cotton trousers and tunic tucked beneath a woolen plaid belted at the waist. Though he was among friends, Hokushin remained at attention, grip on his staff strong and sure, staring ahead unblinkingly. What an impression he and Hiei must have made standing side-by-side, bared teeth of the royal mechanism:

Hopefully, none would feel their bite today.  
A barely audible sigh and my attention shifted from Hokushin to the profile of his lord. Yusuke sat with proper posture yet seemed incapable of keeping still, incessant twitching shifting from his jaw to his hand before creeping to his foot. Rings adorned his fingers as well though the stones were inlaid with silver – his personal preference – and far fewer found homes on his skin than mine. Savage crown cemented proudly atop his head, he stifled a yawn by biting his lip, eyes glassy from too much revelry last night. Periwinkle trousers slipped into knee-high boots while a tunic of the same shade hugged both wrists, complimented by a plaid of dandelion blossoms.

"Yes, your Majesty."

The recorder sat in some inconspicuous corner, a nameless face scribbling away all he saw and heard furiously. The various lords remained silent at father's inquiry, ordered from greatest to least in a semicircle along the outer edges of the chamber. I spied Kuwabara among them, though he dared not meet my gaze, shifting in his seat as he watched the our guests come forward.

Rui and Karasu bowed to us, though she forced the Tengu to remain upright in his tribute. Cloth colored after virgin snow had replaced her blue robes, lace sleeves allowing all to see the flawless arms within. Though her skirts were not layered as those of Gandaran women, the material hugged her body without becoming obscene, leaving little to the imagination while somehow maintaining an air of refinery. Crystals hung from her hair fashioned in towering loops and twists, not unlike a brood of ensnared snakes. A six-petaled flower shone from the fabric at her chest, candied thread matching her eyes perfectly.

I knew without asking this was the Yukionna family seal.

Karasu remained at her back, somehow radiating respect while not meeting anyone's gaze. He wore his normal close-fitting black, though this tunic hid his wrists and chest, high collar folded down to expose the leather at his throat. The swelling in his face was much improved from yesterday but various greens and blues dusted his left cheek, mended metal glinting beneath the light filtering through the windows. Hands complacent at his sides, he took in all without pretense, hair whispering against the feathers at his back.

Thankfully, he did not glance our way.

Rui stepped forward then, hand over her family crest, staring into father's face unflinchingly. "We have already conducted an investigation within our borders, Lord Yomi." I felt my stomach tighten and Hiei tensed at the lesser title, though father remained unmoved. "It is a most peculiar case, for there are no traces of foul play: nothing amiss in the Princess's quarters, no witnesses of anything suspicious."

Elbow resting on the throne arm, father lifted his hand, splayed fingers glinting gold. "There is the possibility Princess Yukina left of her own accord."

"No, my lady would never do such a thing." She immediately dismissed the notion, shaking her head. "What heir would voluntarily leave their homeland without notice or at least taking a guard?"

A choking sound and Yusuke winced, decidedly embarrassed under Hokushin's glare.

Father graciously ignored the outburst. "You underestimate the will of the young, Lady Rui."

"With all due respect, Lord Yomi, I must disagree." Father raised both brows as she stepped closer, though her man remained rooted in place. "Princess Yukina knows her place is among her people – she has never stepped beyond Hyouga's borders. Also, she has been taught to fear the outside world."

Nodding, father smiled. "It is natural to protect your children, as well as your sovereign."

"The Princess enshrines the treasure of our people, as vital as the Oni's song and Gandara's flowered speech."Her face darkened, though her eyes were for father alone. "You know the value of that gift, King Yomi, what our enemies would do to possess it."

Suddenly, her words took on a gravity they formerly lacked. Perhaps this was due to her giving father the respect due him, or the near-panic seeping into her gaze. Regardless, I found myself moved by her plight, body having risen to my full height without knowing.

Hiei appeared moved too. Though I could not see my companion, I felt heat rising steadily at my back, a sensation which always occurred when he felt strong emotion. A shuffling of leather against wood and I saw his sword pommel from the corner of my eye, calloused fingers curled around silver so tightly they shook. The sight warmed my heart:

My companion was not known for being the most chivalrous man.

Kuwabara leaned forward in his seat on the left wing, hands gripping either knee. Thus far, he'd hung on Rui's every word, forgetting his unease of the strange woman and her servant. Questions danced in his eyes, though concern overrode all else–

Fear for a woman he'd never met.

"So, what do you want from us?"

I felt more than heard Hokushin groan at Yusuke's question, abrasive voice filling the audience chamber for the first time.

Nonplussed at his guardian's displeasure, my cousin shifted so one leg draped over the arm of his throne, copper and shelled ornaments clacking as he propped his cheek atop his fist. "Yeah, your girl's missing and it's a big deal. We get it." Rui's eyes widened as he dug in one ear with his pinkie, frowning before flicking away what he found there. "But you still haven't said what you expect us to do about it."

The Koorime frowned, gaze roving from father to the Oni Prince. "Forgive me, Lord Yusuke, but I thought our desire was clear–"

"Nope, try again."

Karasu inched closer to his mistress at the brusque tone, eyes all at once clear and fixed upon my cousin. Hokushin and Hiei noted this as well for they stiffened, leather soles creaking against the tree roots, hands now fully grasping their weapons. "Lord Yusuke–"

"No, it is fine."Rui waved off Hokushin's scolding, a single glance enough to stop the Tengu in his tracks. Karasu bowed his head to her though his attention remained on Yusuke, the steam lining metal slits the only indication he drew breath. "Have I offended you in some way, my Lord? I believe this is the first time we've spoken to each another."

Yusuke snorted, irritation uninhibited, though his words remained somewhat slurred. "What do you know about treaties, lady?"

Rui quickly tucked her puzzlement away, calm facade firmly in place as she answered. "Forgive me, but I do not understand your question. Are you referring to the general nature of treaties? Or their purpose? Or–"

"It wasn't an essay question!" He sighed, digging in his plaid for his pipe and snuff bag, neither of which he was supposed to have judging by Hokushin's expression. Several lords muttered amongst themselves as Yusuke packed and lit his pipe, though he paid them no mind: after all, father said nothing of his nephew's behavior, even as sweet smoke filled the air.

Horns catching the sunlight streaming from overhead, Yusuke took a deep drag before exhaling, perfume curling around his nostrils. "Last I checked, Tourrin is Hyouga's ally, too – we signed a treaty with your kingdom years before Gandara." Another drag and he settled back, raising his chin. "If you're so worried about your princess, why would you come here before seeing us? Tourrin is closer to Hyouga geographically, and I'm sure your Ice Queen knows no one equals us in terms of strength."

If there were a formidable crack in the surrounding wood, I'd no doubt Hokushin would dragged Yusuke into it and beaten him senseless. Though the Hornless remained stoic as ever, I could sense his embarrassment – the discoloration at his neck proved as much. Hiei fared much better in hiding his mirth for his composure did not change whatsoever, a glint in his eye the only thing hinting at amusement.

However, Kuwabara could not quite maintain control over himself. What began as slack-jawed wonder soon devolved into soft chortles, hand covering his mouth in a vain attempt to smother the snickering at my cousin's antics. The other lords glared at him but for once Kuwabara appeared ignorant of their ire, lost in the pleasures due his age.

A welcome sight amidst the tension here.

Rui bowed, loose strands of hair playing against her cheeks. "Forgive me, my Lord; we meant no offense to your house or kingdom." Cherry slits appeared through all that blue, glinting like a freshly cut wound. "During our last contact, Lord Raizen was unwell, so much so that his response was penned by another hand." She straightened though her chin dipped low, gazing at him still through her bangs. "Perhaps her Majesty did not wish to send your father after a princess not yet of age due to his . . . _condition_."

All at once the room stilled, the air sapped away as if by a roaring flame. The lords froze with a tenacity peculiar to our race, to whom centuries meant nothing. Kuwabara's eyes widened to the point I feared lasting damage though he remained silent, caught in the act of inhaling. Father, too, held his peace, hands lax upon the arms of his throne, head turned toward our closest ally. As with most things, I followed his example.

Hiei came into view first. From his lax stance and bored expression, he appeared to all the world utterly unmoved by the assembly. However, I noted his rolling jaw, how his eyes never left the Koorime. Hands resting atop either pommel, grip loose but sure–

I felt the anger in those hands.

Hokushin did not fare so well in hiding his emotions. Muscles taut, he grew abnormally still for an Oni, somehow curling in upon himself while remaining perfectly upright. Heat creeping to encase his entire head, fingers tightened around his staff, his glare darkening even as a low growl crept from his chest. Blood lust shown in those eyes, seeped from his pores, a tangible thing I could taste on my tongue. The hard line of his mouth, furrowed brow unearthing both wrinkles and scars:

I'd never seen Hokushin surrender to emotion so easily.

Yusuke, however, remained calm. Shoulders resting against the back of his seat, he took another drag before exhaling lilac smoke, the image of stoicism as he fingered the patterned plaid at his raised knee. "That's no excuse, you could have asked to see me or one of my brothers. Still doesn't explain why you haven't talked to me here, either. As heir apparent and representative of Tourrin, anything I say is legally binding for the Crown. You know that, right?"

For a moment, Rui remained silent. Though her face remained a pleasant mask, I could see the gears of her mind at work, eagerly searching for a way to turn the tides in her favor.

Finally, she bowed her head, eyes tracing the bark at her feet. "Forgive me, Lord Yusuke. Until the time of the late king, Tourrin handled diplomatic matters . . . _differently_ than Hyouga and Gandara. I was uncertain if a regent or representative would suffice."

That much was true. Tales of the savagery of Tourrin's court peppered my childhood, ample motivation to grow into a good king, one who maintained peace without the use of violence.

However, I did not miss Rui's implication that the Oni were nothing more than blood-thirsty brutes.

My cousin didn't either though he let whatever retort rose on his tongue die, lungs drinking from his pipe one last time. "Apology accepted, don't worry about it. However," He leaned forward, gaze darkening to match the wood beneath his feet. "Insult my King or country again, and I'll rip that tongue out of your pretty head."

Rui gasped and Karasu stepped before her but Yusuke was done with the affair, dumping the ashes from his pipe before slipping it back into his plaid. "So, what kind of help do you need, resources or man power?"

And just like that, the collective tension fled. Kuwabara allowed himself a regulated breath and Hokushin's muscles unfurled, allowing him to stand proudly next to his prince. Hiei allowed his hands to fall from his blades but held them at the ready, fingers poised like spiders against his thighs.

Rui, however, did not respond, safely hidden behind the girth of her servant.

"Now, now, there is no need for hostility among friends." Father chided, smiling at the Tengu. "What does her Majesty desire, Lady Rui?"

Mention of Queen Hina seemed to rouse Rui from her stupor for she stiffened, moving around Karasu to step closer to the dais. "Ones who know these lands well, but can keep a secret. I cannot stress the gravity of the situation enough – we must find Princess Yukina as quickly as possible."

Another shimmer of heat swept across my skin at that name though it vanished quickly, allowing mossy coolness in once more.

"So a squadron won't do."

"No." She shook her head. "A scouting party will suffice, men who will not draw unnecessary attention to themselves or the mission. Four, at most."

Father pondered over the number, doubtless already running over names in his mind. I could imagine who he would pick for such a task: Suzaku, Yana or any other of his personal guard, men who could be trusted completely.

However, before he could voice his thoughts, Yusuke spoke. "I'll do it."

I don't know who appeared more surprised, Rui or Hokushin. However, the Hornless spoke first, tripping over his own tongue. "Lord Yusuke, you can't be–"

"I'm dead serious."

His bearing proved as much, for though he picked at an invisible thread in his trousers, his voice remained utterly smooth, not unlike the crystal surface of a pool. When he finally raised his head to gaze upon his mentor, a familiar fire kindled in his eyes, one born of experience and a confidence bordering upon arrogance. "I'm the best warrior we've got here, and no one's better at reconnaissance. The other guys are strong but whoever has the Princess is the real deal: they took her from her _own country_ , one that's supposed to be _impenetrable_. I've gotta do it."

"No," Hokushin shook his head, panic seeping into his voice. "You _can't_ , Lord Yusuke! As heir apparent–"

"I'm not irreplaceable. The old man can always make more sons – he's threatened me with that enough times." He laughed, a smirk curling his lips. "That won't work on me, Hokushin."

His guardian swallowed, trying and failing to regain his composure. "Then I will look for her Highness."

"Nah, that won't work either." Yusuke waved the declaration away, scratching at his chest.

Red flooded Hokushin's cheeks and he stepped toward his leader, stopping when only sparse inches separated them. "Lord Yusuke–!"

"Look," My cousin sighed, rising to stand before him. As always, their height difference did not phase him: after all, Yusuke was used to staring up at his own kind. "I need you and your men to go back home, just in case something stupid happens. It's the Hornless's job to protect the Crown, anyway. I'll pick someone to go with me, so there's no need to perform Ligean Fola."

Ligean Fola – a ceremonial battle royale unique to the Oni. Much like the thunder dance, this gruesome tradition existed with protecting the Crown in mind, reserved for whenever the Hornless could not accompany either the King or Prince in their travels. Only Tourrin's best were worthy of protecting their ruler, and what better way to decide such a thing than combat?

Yusuke's proposal to bypass Ligean Fola was unheard of, a staunch break from tradition yet one entirely necessary at the moment.

"That okay with you, Uncle? Both our kingdoms sending two guys?" Yusuke called, rolling his neck to stare at father. "I think that's fair, since we're allies and all."

I didn't miss the challenge in his question.

Rather than appear offended, however, father smiled, creases at his eyes deepening with silent mirth. "Of course, Prince Yusuke. We would have it no other way."

My cousin nodded, turning back to his guardian. When Hokushin appeared less than convinced, Yusuke murmured a word in their strange tongue, raising his arm. Immediately, the Hornless dipped down, allowing his lord to place a hand on his head. Yusuke's pinkie and thumb found ready homes at Hokushin's temples, scarred knuckles flexing with the effort of gripping the great skull.

"I'm trusting you to keep the old man safe; you're the only one I can trust with this." Thick hair whispering against his plaid, Yusuke's eyes softened momentarily, as if they were the only two in the room. " _Coisant d_ _ú_ _inn uile_."

Hokushin stiffened at the whisper before closing his eyes, a deep rumble rising in his chest.

For a breath, silence overtook the space, all eyes fixed upon the Tourrites. Even Rui and Karasu watched on, though the latter did so with obvious detachment. No, the Tengu did his best to keep all of us in his line of sight, ready to act upon the slightest threat to his mistress.

He would not be caught off-guard again.

Once Yusuke's hand fell away and he and Hokushin returned to their respective places, father turned his attention back to our guests. "We will need time to consider our representatives. Whomever is sent must be chosen with great care, worthy of such a quest."

Several voiced their approval, Rui nodding in understanding as well. However, before she could speak, I cleared my throat. "Father, if I may?"

Father turned toward me with a raised brow, for I did not usually speak in court. "What is it, son?"

Unwilling to show weakness or any form of uncertainty, I met his unseeing gaze directly, rousing confidence I did not quite feel. "I wish to act as Gandara's representative."

Muted mutterings along with strange looks filled the room, underlain by the trees' chiding. Father's brows rose at the request, so much so that his lids threatened to open and, just for a moment, he appeared as he did in the portrait gracing the dining hall – a youthful, whole man. "And why is that?"

Logic threatened to flee at the sight of his evergreen robes, the gold twining his hair; the great throne and crown, each passed down our family line for hundreds of years, both of which would someday be mine. The rings adorning his fingers, the scepter at his side: all dictated authority I'd known since childhood, sovereignty I'd never questioned or dared challenge–

Until now.

"All my life, I've been instructed in the ways of other lands: their culture, topography and politics, though I've never ventured past Gandara's borders. When you were my age, father, you traveled to both Tourrin and Ysbryd multiple times."

Father tucked his chin, brow furrowing ever so slightly. "We were at war, Kurama. The situation now is entirely different."

"Different but no less meaningful." I pressed, willing him to understand. "Yusuke's father, your brother, is suspect; our alliance is threatened over mere conjecture. Since Princess Yukina's disappearance is the cause of this, would it not be prudent to search for her ourselves?"

At the mention of King Raizen, father's face darkened further. Though grandfather's liaison with

a Tourrite Princess was well known, my Uncle's mixed blood never settled well amongst the Gandaran nobles. Due to this, the brothers were raised in their respective countries, despite being born three months apart. Father had always been protective of his younger brother and visited him often, traveling to Tourrin in the summer while Uncle came here in the winter. A unique bond, formed against all odds–

One he would do anything to protect.

"Also, let us not overlook Prince Yusuke, my cousin, is seeing to this personally." Gesturing toward the Oni, I crossed my legs, chin resting on the back of my hand. "Surely we cannot withhold our best while our ally sends its finest?"

For a moment, father maintained his silence, still as the wood in which we were housed. Then, when I'd feared the cause lost, he smiled – a slow, sure motion. "Well spoken, my son."

I hid a smile behind my hand but Yusuke grinned outright, nose wrinkling and fangs peeking over his bottom lip.

We were allotted little time to celebrate, however, for father spoke once more. "Tell us, son, have you thought of whom will accompany you on this quest?"

"Yes." Such a thing needed no thought though I did not say as much, gesturing behind me. "I would have Hiei travel with me."

For a moment, Rui's face contorted into a gruesome scowl before she dipped her head, feigning a cough into a long sleeve. When she rose, her expression was serene as ever.

Thankfully, I cared nothing of her disapproval.

"No!" Suzaku broke free of his place at father's right, propelling himself before us. I cannot say who this surprised more, father or I, though the knight quickly corrected himself, dropping to one knee. "My King, but you musn't allow this!"

Father's smile thinned as he turned toward his guard, voice calm, serene. "What objection have you to our son's choice, Suzaku?"

He deepened his bow, scarlet-tipped bangs brushing one knee. "Please forgive my impudence, your Majesty, but I fear the Prince's decision stems from personal comfort rather than prudence." I felt a placid mask slip into place as I listened, knowing better than to interrupt. "The boy has never left the capital, not since his arrival many winters ago – he knows nothing more of the surrounding lands than his Highness."

The boy. A thoughtful shortening of Hiei's true station, one I had not heard voiced in quite some time. Oh, I heard the servant's talk, the rumors circulating the castle, securing a place in the aged wood of the orchards. Everyone wondered why my companion remained when he'd long since fulfilled his role. In their eyes, he was a child's play-thing, the child now nearly a man.

"Hiei has saved the Prince's life many times – there are few in Gandara more skilled with a sword than he. Also," Father somehow rose higher on his throne, adding to his already impressive height. "He hails from afar, and traveled many days to come to our kingdom. Though he was but a child then, we have no doubt he remembers the journey."

At some point during this discourse, Hiei came to my side, only a hairsbreadth taller than I given my seated position. Puffed shoulder sleeves nearly brushing my own, he watched the discourse with apparent disinterest, though I saw the rigid set of his legs, the scarcely-drawn breaths; the milky pallor of his tanned hands, fists trembling slightly from clenching:

He wanted this as badly as I.

"As King Yomi said, Hiei's protected me from countless assailants – there is no one I trust more with my life."

Suzaku glanced between father and I but, sensing the battle lost, dipped his head before retreating to his place.

My attention drifted to Kuwabara then. The only one among the lords not lost to the latest scandal, he sat with straight-backed attention still, stray curls slipping from the wax to lay across his forehead. Catching my eye, a small smile tugged his lips, though I noted the melancholy in his gaze. Those too-stiff shoulders, dancing fingers digging into both palms; carefully measured breaths, the tightness of his jaw–

He wanted nothing more than to accompany us.

The knowledge pained me though I could not let such show, not in this hall of witnesses.

Rui approached the dais again though now she her focus remained upon my cousin, her bow courteous and deeper than necessary. "On behalf of her Highness Queen Hina, I thank you both for your hospitality and aide. However, Lord Yusuke, I can allow one day for you to decide who shall accompany you–"

"Nah, don't worry about that." The Oni Prince waved the comment and the accompanying formalities away, hand traveling to the great braids atop his head. "I already have someone in mind."

Surprise flickered across her face though I expected as much, for Yusuke remained forever scheming, always plotting his next adventure. Though who would he choose? Hokushin was out of the question. Perhaps Enki, victor of the tournament, or some relative tucked within the folds of his escort. Regardless, the man would be the best in his eyes:

Nothing Yusuke did as a diplomat was without merit.

"Oh?" Father tipped his head, gilded fronds slipping over one shoulder. "Do tell, Prince Yusuke. Who will accompany the Prince of Tourrin?"

My cousin grinned, a gesture full of teeth as knowing fingers raked against k k his scalp. "Kazuma Kuwabara."

 **A/N: Whew, it's been a while but I'm here! This and the previous chapter were originally one, though they fit better into the story as separate entities. Hope you all enjoyed this chapter filled with politics, cultural tidbits and character background. The fun is just getting started!**

 **Thank those of you who followed, favorited and reviewed. I read all of your feedback and every thought means so much.**

 **So the search party is assembled and ready to go. What will happen on their quest to save Princess Yukina, and where will they start looking? All that and more next chapter!**

Ligean fola – blood letting

Coisant dúinn uile – protect us all


	12. Genesis

_You cannot go far alone. You enjoy your_

 _journey better if you have people by your side._

 _Karan Patel_

Genesis

"I still can't believe this."

The statement trailed away as we wound from one corridor to the next, clarity eluding Kuwabara's voice still. Morning sunlight streamed through natural parts in the canopied ceiling and, not for the first time, I marveled at the trees' beauty. Though we had been prepared to set off directly after court convened, both father and Hokushin demanded we remain in Schloss Wald one more night, that 'proper preparations' be made for such a journey–

What preparations could they have in mind?

"A waste." Hiei hissed behind me, ever-knowing my thoughts. "Doddering fools . . . How much provision can be made for a reconnaissance party?"

"Hey, watch your mouth!" The knight spun to face him, thick arms straining against a cerulean tunic.

Glare simmering, Hiei set his shoulders before complying, dutifully lowering his voice. "Nobles in general are simple-minded."

"How–" Kuwabara stifled his tongue and closed his eyes, somehow managing to continue his backward stride while keeping pace with us. After several steps, he took a deep breath, beady gaze boring into the smaller man. "How can you say that?"

A snort, the comforting sound of skin caressing wool as he crossed his arms. "Greed and pride always produce fools, no matter what title they use to excuse it. The more they have, the more they want."

"But, Prince Yusuke isn't like that and his Highness isn't, either!" A meaty hand gestured my way, one which could easily shroud my face. "And King Yomi has–"

"I said in general; there are always exceptions."

The back-handed compliment tugged a smile from my lips, though such was how Hiei gifted praise. "Surely you do not wish to argue before our journey even begins?"

Kuwabara blushed and we rounded another corner, turning to face forward. "Sorry." He mumbled, adjusting the leather sack at his shoulder. "Hey, do you have any idea why Urameshi asked us to bring these?"

I glanced at the strap across my chest, securing the burden between my shoulders. "No, though I'm sure he will–"

"Please reconsider!"

The cry seeped through a door left ajar, the light tumbling children spilling into the hall. Glancing at my companions, I bade them stay before creeping closer, willing the wood silence my steps. While Yusuke's room normally brimmed with laughter and the charm of the opposite sex, today only he and Hokushin occupied the chamber. Clearly caught in the midst of packing, my cousin sat on his bed surrounded by various knickknacks, brows raised at the sight before him.

For once appearing too small for his robes, Hokushin knelt on the floor, hands and feet lost in billowing black. Despite his impassioned plea, the Hornless' skin retained an ashen hue, forehead pressed to Yusuke's bare foot. Baring of bowed head and neck, revering the soles which trample earth and enemy alike–

The ultimate submission for an Oni.

"You are the light of your people, beloved by every clan! None of your siblings or clansmen other than King Raizen can claim such!" Eyes squeezed shut, Hokushin's forehead dug into Yusuke's skin, voice rising with each pass. "True peace for our land is within your grasp! Will you throw away everything you've worked for, my Lord?"

"'course not!" Yusuke clucked his tongue, nose wrinkling. "You think I'm an idiot?"

"Then take me with you!"

At that my cousin paused, emotion all at once locked behind a bronze mask.

Hokushin continued on, eyes squeezed shut. "The world despises our people, Lord Yusuke – they see us as nothing more than tools for war. In days past, this was advantageous: such meant wealth and strong alliances, insurance for Tourrin and all that dwelled therein. But now–" He ground his jaw, movement in the black hinting at fists. "Should any discover you, they'll kill you because of who you are; they need no other reason." His voice trembled then, tears brimming to wet Yusuke's foot. "I cannot allow that to happen!"

My cousin listened without protest or interruption; calm, contemplative–

So unlike the man I knew.

Finally, he spoke. "Raise your head, Hokushin."

A presence at my back and I knew Hiei and Kuwabara were watching, though I could not fault them for that. Slowly, the Hornless looked upon his lord, weathered face showcasing every hard-won scar and wrinkle. Not for the first time, I wondered how many of those were caused by the Prince before him, who even now carried the mantle of nobility with a peasant's bearing.

Breathing a soft sigh, Yusuke placed his hand atop Hokushin's head, pinkie and thumb pressing the thick scars at his temples. "Look, I've already made the call – how would it look if I went back on my word now?" He smiled, despite his vassal's grim expression. "I appreciate your loyalty: for as long as I can remember, you've always watched over me, protected me, been there for me. No matter what mess I get into or how much you yell, I know you're always in my corner." Fingers flexing, my cousin paused, brows puckering. "That's why I need you to go home."

The older Oni remained silent, watching as his Lord pulled his hand away and leaned back, hair spilling across the sheets. "This all lines up a little too well. The Ice Princess disappearing, my old man getting worse; these guys from Hyouga just _happening_ to show up when Fox Boy and I are together." Lips morphing into a scowl full of teeth, Yusuke's hands curled into fists, glare curdling the branches overhead. "I don't like it."

Hokushin straightened, ebony gaze darkening further as he rose to a kneeling position. "Do you believe this has anything to do with–?"

"No clue, that's what I want you to find out." A burst of air and Yusuke rolled to his feet, continuing his initial task of stuffing a small sack. "Keep a handle on things, be my eyes and ears while I'm gone. You know how our guys get when there's nothing to do. Oh, and don't worry about anyone finding me out." Knotting a thong around the sack's mouth, he glanced down, mischievous grin nearly kissing his cheekbones. "We both know I'm not stupid enough to get caught."

I chose then to make myself known, knocking softly before entering. "Yusuke, it's time."

My cousin did not appear flummoxed by my appearance, though Hokushin's face paled further. In fact, the Hornless made no move to rise."Hey!" Yusuke stretched on his tiptoes to peek over my shoulder, offering myself and our companions a toothy grin. "You guys all set?"

"Yes, everyone is waiting in the courtyard."

"Great!" Giving the room one final sweep, he slung the strange piped instrument over one shoulder, strapping two hand drums at his flanks. "Then let's–"

"Lord Yusuke!"

Smile slipping, he turned and eyed his vassal. Hokushin stood where Yusuke left him, all emotion tucked away. Though he rose over my cousin by at least one head, Hokushin made no move to appear intimidating as he stepped toward us, bearing the bag his Lord forgot. The moment he reclaimed the burden, however, Hokushin clamped his hand atop Yusuke's head, foremost and latter finger resting atop his horns while ruffling his hair. "Keep the heid."

Closing one eye, Yusuke pretended to fuss over his tussled braids but made no effort to escape that grip, huffing, "Don't I always?"

* * *

Yusuke wasted no time beginning the proceedings.

Whether observed by a seasoned audience or no, the Uchtáil always proved a sight to behold. Gifted by Lugh centuries before the Dragon's War, this ceremony allowed the Oni to adopt individuals of differing races into their ranks, accepted by both land and gods alike. Such was how the Tengu made their home in Tourrin, as well as how Dragons and Oni lived in peace–

And why the former's betrayal stung so.

Kuwabara stood before Yusuke, both bare from the waist up and surrounded by my cousin's people. Hokushin remained between them, flanked by his men who bore staves and drums; none of them smiled. If not for the lack of weapons, one would think another bout was about to take place.

Hiei shifted at my side as Hokushin began the ancient chant, voice rising above the drums at his back. "This is a waste of time."

Raising a brow, I glanced his way, noting the crossed arms and abnormal rigidity. "You don't approve Yusuke's choice?"

We stood apart from the group conducting the ceremony, observing beneath a forgotten corner of the orchards. Aside from us, no Gandaran other than father saw fit to appear for the Uchtáil. Dressed in earthen robes nearly the shade of the bowl Hokushin carried, he stood just behind Kuwabara, as was his right as King. Our words remained soft, though thankfully a gentle breeze rustled the leaves overhead, ensuring a private discourse.

"It's not my place to say."

The admission caught me off-guard and I gave him my full attention. Hiei was rarely at a loss for words, least of all with me, and never shrank from granting his honest opinion. Realization dawned and I tucked my chin, fingers catching cotton cloth. "You believe Hokushin should go in his place."

Hiei watched the Hornless dip his fingers into a mixture of honey and choice herbs, smearing the red ointment in curving patterns upon first Yusuke's skin, then Kuwabara's. Each line told a story, grotesque shapes and runes coming to life on canvases of flesh, though what it all meant I couldn't tell.

"He's going to get himself killed."

I pressed but he said nothing more, watching with a detachment rivaling Karasu's.

Sighing, my eyes roved back toward the castle. Our guests observed the ceremony in the shadow of Schloss Wald, almost lost to the darkness save for the train of Rui's robes. Thick cloak clasped at her throat, the Koorime was dressed for travel, a journey home which would have already commenced had not she insisted on witnessing this. Impassive as ever, she appeared uncaring of the beads of sweat dotting her forehead, victims of the heat of the day despite her strategic post. Karasu looked on at her back, his body encased in black wool save the open hem at his chest. Pectorals cresting and falling much like ocean waves, his hair spilled down his back, raven wings melding seamlessly with those locks. The scythes were nowhere to be seen yet I knew they were there, awaiting to defend his mistress.

Neither glanced our way.

" _Dagda agus ioml_ _á_ _n_ _á_ _r ndaoine, bre_ _á_ _an finn_ _é._ " Hokushin rumbled as the drums began their sluggish song, fingertips dripping as he touched first Yusuke's forehead, then Kuwabara's. The human swallowed, unused to such scrutiny, the ferocity of an Oni's glare. " _An aon sé tá bhur mac, agus bráthair._ "

From lips wrought of steel, my cousin spoke. "Dagda and all our people, bear witness." Kuwabara's brow furrowed at his firm tone yet I noted the gratitude behind that gaze, his relief. If the interruption bothered Hokushin, he hid it well. "This one wants to be your son, our brother."

The Hornless drew a dagger from his smock and Kuwabara blanched, eyes widening as the weapon went to Yusuke. Scowling, my cousin studied the blade, an article carved from an ancestral Ram's horn. The drums quickened their pace and he tilted his head, braids clacking like horse hooves on stone.

Then, without warning, he dragged the dagger down his arm.

Hokushin's men opened their mouths wide, throaty voices overpowering Kuwabara's cry. Their humming rose over pounding drums, gazes fixed on the cut marring the soft flesh of Yusuke's underarm. My cousin studied the wound for a moment, face slack, unimpressed by the blood streaming from wrist to elbow.

When he extended the slender blade to Kuwabara, the human balked, shaking his head. "H-hang on a minute! I have no idea what's going on–"

"Simple, you're being adopted." Yusuke tucked the dagger beneath one arm before dipping ready fingers into his own blood. Kuwabara stood rooted to the spot as he touched first one hollowed cheek, then the other, dotting the human's forehead before running a line of red down his nose, the procession finally ending at his chin. "Okay," He stepped back, offering the blade once more. "Your turn."

"What do you mean, 'adopted'? I'm not a child!"

Yusuke groaned, tipping his head back amidst drum beats and the Hornless' crooning. He'd never liked explaining intricate matters. "Look, you wanna go with us, right?" At Kuwabara's nod he lifted the blade, red creeping down shining metal. "The only way that can happen is if you become one of us, a citizen of Tourrin."

Kuwabara's jaw went slack at this and he shook his head. "I can't do that! That'd be betraying my land, my King–!" He glanced back at father, who smiled still despite the delayed proceedings.

"Don't sweat it, why do you think Uncle's here?" Yusuke jutted his chin, raising his voice over his countrymen. "You don't mind if I borrow Kuwabara for a bit, do you?"

"Not at all." Father chuckled, making no attempt to hide his amusement. "So long as he returns unharmed – I owe a debt to his family."

"Don't worry, he'll be fine."

Father's smile widened, scars creasing at the temples as Yusuke focused once more upon the knight. "Do as you will, then."

"You heard him." My cousin smirked, drawing small circles in the air with the blade tip. "Nothing holdin' you back now – _real_ men don't go back on their word."

Kuwabara flushed at the obvious bait, meaty hands forming fists. "I'm not a coward." He ground out, meeting the Oni's challenging gaze.

"I know, why do you think I chose you?" All mirth left my cousin's countenance as he handed the dagger over, smirk slipping into a frown. "Don't prove me wrong now."

A moment's hesitation and then he followed Yusuke's example, slicing through soft flesh. Kuwabara couldn't quite hide his flinch though he gave no other indication of pain, squeezing the wound just as his predecessor had, blade tucked safely against his ribs. Per my cousin's instructions, he made the appropriate lines across Yusuke's forehead, cheeks and forehead, red glowing at his chin with the last pointed press.

Hokushin moved then, retrieving the dagger as the Hornless' chants dissolved to muted murmurs, drums setting the pace for every heart. " _Fuil ar fuil, feoil ar feoil_."

"Blood for blood, flesh for flesh." Yusuke lifted his leaking arm and Kuwabara followed suite, unmoving as the Oni pressed his wound to his. However, when my cousin grabbed orange curls and bashed their foreheads together, the human hissed, instinctively fighting the grip before realization struck and he froze.

" _Ar deasghná_ _th, an fear seo t_ _á_ _á_ _r, duine againn._ "

"By rite, this man is ours, one of us." Hand clasping bloody hand, Yusuke grinned, nose-to-nose with our befuddled friend. "Welcome to the family, Kuwabara."

* * *

The rest happened rather quickly, one event flowing into the next like streams joining the river on its way to the ocean. Beginning with Hokushin, the Hornless approached Kuwabara, placing their hands on his head according to custom. Acceptance radiated from all in place of warmth, and that seemed enough for my cousin.

Expecting more would have been foolish.

Father approached the pair last, smile serene though I could not tell what thoughts lay behind his sealed lids. Reaching with both hands, he accepted their red-lined limbs with grace, murmuring softly to himself. The flowers joined the song and light shone from his palms, startling both yet father held fast, slender fingers never once loosening their grip. Wild roses danced alongside vivid posies and lilies, willingly giving their King whatever he needed.

Then it was done, the wounds disappearing as if they never were.

"You did well, both of you." Father's smile widened as he released his hold, hands moving to either man's shoulder. "We expect much from you."

Kuwabara fell silent, red darkening both cheeks and Yusuke grinned, offering some witty remark of his own.

I glanced at Hiei only to find his attention focused elsewhere. Arms crossed, my companion stared at our other guests with nothing less than disdain, a deep scowl lining his face. Lost in thought, he did not seem aware of anything else, not the intensity of his glare nor the fact that I watched him from a pace away. To my surprise, Karasu readily met his gaze while Rui watched the Oni's ceremony, either unknowing or uncaring of Hiei's ire. The tengu's eyes remained emotionless as ever, posture perfect yet unassuming, metal mask dull beneath the shade of wood and stone. Jaw set, every muscle taut, irises smoldering embers in his skull–

Hiei appeared ready to explode at any moment.

When the two finally began their trek across the lawn, I sighed, clasping his shoulder. "We'd best join them."

Hiei didn't move, gave no indication he'd heard me. Brow furrowing, I tightened my grip only to feel him jolt, spinning to swat my hand away with an angry fist. The moment he saw me, however, he froze, eyes widening as clarity rushed in.

We remained that way for a moment, his fist raised and my hand on him still, unable or unwilling to move. Though I hid my surprise, the reality of the situation hit home for he paled, averting his gaze before tucking both hands into his pockets.

Arms falling at my side, I stepped closer, noting his worried lip, flesh caught between clenched teeth. "Don't worry, no one noticed." The whisper appeared lost to him, though I knew he heard for a fraction of tension left his body, the expectation of a blow fading like smoke.

Smiling, I nodded toward the grounds, sunlight warm on my back as I stepped from beneath the trees. "Shall we?"

The Oni's cheer knew no bounds. Formalities resolved, each ram greeted Kuwabara in his own way, teasing his size, tugging his hair, even throwing playful punches at his shoulders and stomach. Our friend took all this in stride, defending his honor when he felt the need, though honestly he seemed to be enjoying himself. Not surprisingly, he was the first to notice our arrival, curls falling into his face as he grinned.

It had been quite some time since I'd last seen him this happy.

"Congratulations, Sir Knight."

Everything stopped for that voice, cold and clear as a winter morning. Rui and Karasu materialized as the crowd parted, both dipping their heads to Kuwabara in barely perceptible bows. While his mistress straightened to face the human, however, the Tengu kept his gaze lowered, gaze lingering over the delicate arch of her neck, nape exposed by elaborate twists of blue. Hair slipping over one shoulder, he appeared oblivious to all but her, never looking up though I did nothing to hide my stare.

"Being accepted by a people other than your own is an impressive feat, especially for one as young as you. That process being initiated by royalty is nearly unheard of, as well. Hyouga offers her blessing."

She and he bowed once more, Karasu focusing on his boots when Rui turned to face me. "Prince Kurama, shortly after our arrival I committed an offense against you. For that, I apologize."

Murmurs amongst the Oni and though Father remained as placid as ever, his surprise registered through flexed brows. Yusuke's mouth twisted in satisfaction; I saw Hiei's scowl from the corner of my eye. "There is no need, Lady Rui."

"Oh, but there is – we cannot have malice between our kingdoms." As she spoke, I searched for a motive, some scheme which required an audience.

However, no such thing reflected in her gaze or bearing. Taking a breath, I straightened, steeling myself. "If that is the case, it is not I you need apologize to."

"I'm well aware, which is why I have a token for your man."

A token? Truly, I hadn't expected this, her complacency or her gift. Glancing back, I stepped away, leaving them to face one another. Hands open and ready at his thighs, Hiei watched her with poorly concealed hatred, fire churning his eyes, too-tense jaw threatening to crack. Heat choked the air around us, harsh and unprecedented for this time of year.

If Rui noticed his state, however, she hid it well. "Karasu."

Pale hand cutting a path through the warm morning, the Tengu moved with speed rivaling Hiei's, pulling some invisible strap at his waist. The tunic parted instantly, falling open to flank his bare abdomen. Unexpectedly toned muscle awaited there, swelling beneath alabaster skin, flesh lined with spiraling veins, brutish bruises, and scars both old and new. A thick lock of hair slipped with the motion, outlying a dark nipple before spilling to kiss a protruding hip. All of this happened quite naturally, no trace of shock rising from his mistress' request. In fact, Karasu never ceased studying his shoes, not even when Kuwabara drew in a sharp breath.

Yusuke raised a brow, though otherwise neither he nor his people reacted to the display. Nudity was a common part of daily life for rams and while they were used to seeing a man's body, they knew such went against Gandaran custom. In fact, aside from my cousin, Hiei was the only person I'd ever seen in a state of undress, and even then only for the treatment of wounds.

For his part, my companion didn't seem bothered by the Tengu's actions. Rather, Hiei stared at Karasu's exposed side, eyes wide as thrift blooms. Only then did I see the slick leather peeking from that waist, a twisting, dark thing made from a nightmare forest. The garish curves brought to mind my cousin's crown, only irreparably tainted, something no one could want much less wield.

However, Hiei's gaze stated otherwise. I watched his jaw fall slack, pupils shrinking to pinpricks as Karasu retrieved the dagger from his trousers, presenting it reverently to his mistress. Rui accepted the offering, eyes roving over all that flesh before focusing once more on the object in her hand. Smiling, she drew it from the thin scabbard, revealing a black blade with edges not unlike rushing currents, waves coming to a fine point at the end. A marvelous weapon, one I'd never seen before–

Though any enjoyment I should have felt was extinguished by the grunt from Hiei's throat, as if all the wind had been knocked from him. Face paling further, he appeared unaware of making the sound, of anything save the blade.

"Weaving athame – a weapon unique to the Tengu." Rui hummed, petting the blade's spine with delicate fingers before sheathing it once more, stepping forward. "Along with the mishap from before, Karasu injured you severely in your bout. A pleasure sport nearly ended in a blood bath." Hiei stiffened under her cooing, right fist coiling at his side. "For that, I bequeath you this. I trust you will make good use of it?"

When Hiei simply stared, father answered in his stead. "Of course he will." My companion started, raising those wide eyes as father came to his side, smiling. Flowers chattered in the breeze, soft songs filling my ears. "Hiei would be honored to accept Hyouga's gift."

All eyes fell on Hiei then, yet still he hesitated, gaze traveling from the extended dagger to father. Finally, he stepped forward, taking the blade with a shallow bow.

Rui nodded at his retreat, arms slipping beneath her cloak. "May it aid you on your journey." She tipped her head, watching as Karasu refastened his tunic. "Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Yomi. We will notify Queen Hina of your kindness."

Father returned her bow, a graceful movement only one of his years could possess. "Are you sure you cannot stay longer, Lady Rui? We would be delighted to have you a while longer."

"Unfortunately, no. The winds are bothersome this time of year. If we do not leave now, I'm not sure when the next opportunity will come."

She turned to her man, then, touching his bicep thoughtfully. "Princess Yukina must be found and returned safely as soon as possible. I fear without her presence, the Queen's heart will not last – she truly is a benevolent ruler." At some unknown signal, Karasu scooped her into his arms, wings extending to their full length. "Please . . . find her before it is too late."

With that, the Tengu sprinted off, wings flapping once, twice before he leaped off a small rise, carrying them up and away from us. In moments, they were gone without so much as a backward glance, dark specs soon lost among the clouds.

Not too long after, the four of us stood before father and Hokushin, Yusuke's people and Gandaran warriors spread behind them. The 'provisions', it turned out, were a simple affair: a bag of food and gold each, a newly-inked map of Gandara and the surrounding lands, as well as a blessing from both men. Hokushin's came first, begging the strength, fortitude and solidarity of Tourrin's mountains and hills; father's requested the speed of Gandara's rivers and wisdom of the wood, for understanding of the flower's song, no matter where this journey took us. The seeds in my clothes and hair shook at their words, and I couldn't help but sense the others felt similarly.

As we turned to depart, however, a new voice cut through the Oni's cheers, begging us to wait. Shizuru hurried across the lawn with her lady's maid, braids flying behind her. A vision in blue, she didn't stop running until she stood before us, leaning against her brother's offered arm.

"Sis!" Kuwabara exclaimed, clearly as astonished as I. When she didn't respond for lack of breath, he swallowed, helping her stand tall. "I, uh, didn't think you were coming–"

"Of course I'd come to see you off, you're my little brother." Her gruff reply didn't put him off, neither did her refusal to look him in the eye. Rather, she stared at me, eyes milky, distant–

Laced with salvia smoke. "Lady Shizuru–"

"Beware strange woods, and the man dressed in white." She spoke in a voice which was both hers and not her own; no, this voice was deeper, as if spoken from an ancient well.

A seer's voice.

"Seek the Spirit of the Forest, for he will guard your life."

The Spirit of the Forest? Something stirred at that name though before I could question her further the lace left her eyes and she slumped once more, yet still Kuwabara held her weight. "Hey, sis? Shizuru, are you okay?"

Panic made his voice squeak, gaze flickering about desperately. Yusuke went to her other side, batting away her maid in favor of taking her arm. "Hey, somebody lend a hand!"

Immediately, a cumbersome ram stepped forth, taking her carefully into his arms. Shizuru truly appeared wan against that red shoulder, lids fluttering open to spy her brother. Weakness was not uncommon after an induced vision, though normally such things did not make her faint.

"You'd better come back." She breathed, fair hair falling against one cheek as her attention shifted to Hiei. "Look after him."

Though I was unsure of if the 'he' she referred to was myself or Kuwabara, Hiei nodded anyway, watching along with the rest of us as she was escorted back into the castle.

"There is nothing left to say." Father chuckled, handing one last pouch to me. "I wish you success and a speedy journey."

"As do I, Lord Yusuke." Hokushin said, somber mask fully donned as he likewise handed my cousin a pouch. "Please, do not cause Prince Kurama any unnecessary trouble."

"Aw, don't worry," Yusuke grinned, slipping both arms through the openings in his plaid before shouldering his war club and piped instrument. "We'll be back before you know it!"

More sentimental goodbyes and we were off, weaving a path through the capital's streets, each building resting snugly between great roots and thick branches. Though a few stared after us, there was no grand farewell, no parades or crying women. Ours was a secret mission, after all–

None outside of Schloss Wald knew of it.

"So, Urameshi, I've been meaning to ask you something." Kuwabara drawled as we fled the cobbled streets for hard earth and shaded canopies, the King's Forest embracing us without a fuss.

"Yeah?" Yusuke called back just ahead of us, burdens making quite the racket while Hiei followed silently behind. The leaves whispered to one another, tugging my hair and breeches though I would not divulge our secret to anyone, not even them.

The price was too great.

"You said you've got a plan, a way for us to look for the princess unnoticed." The knight knit his brow, clearly uncomfortable with the order to walk at my side. "What is it?"

"Oh, didn't I tell you?" My cousin turned, a toothy grin lighting his face as he laid a hand on one of the drums at his hips. "We're going to be traveling minstrels!"

A/N: Hello and welcome back! Sorry this chapter took so long but we made it! Thank you so much for those who have favorited, followed and reviewed!

So, drama on all fronts, one weird prophecy and an adoption ceremony later, and our boys are on their journey! Where will they travel first, and what's up with Yusuke's idea of making a medieval boy band? Read on to find out!


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